Right Before Her Eyes
by BonniePrincess
Summary: Helen Pevensie had often heard people say that children grew up so fast, but she did not take the saying literally...until now. A Golden Age Fic.
1. A Mother's Pain

**Right Before Her Eyes**

Summary: _Helen Pevensie had often heard people say that children grew up so fast, but she had never taken the saying literally...until now. _

_(AU-ish, between LWW and PC ( a story that fits been between the two). The siblings return to the Golden Age of Narnia, with an unexpected guest- their mother.) _

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I am trying out my second Narnia plot bunny to see what people think. I hope this hasn't been done before! Please read and review!

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As evening fell across Finchley, a mother sat observing two of her children with a small frown etched on her worried face.

They had been home for over three weeks now, Helen Pevensie mused, and yet the aloofness and tension that she had felt when they had first returned from the country still remained. She could remember meeting them as they stepped off the train- there were tears in her eyes, and distant looks in theirs. Only Lucy, her dear sweet Lucy, had snapped out of her daze when she first saw her and gave her the emotional hug she had been expecting. The others, much to her confusion and heartache, hugged her with a stiffness that had made her joyful tears mix with painful ones. Peter, she recalled, had tried to smile as they embraced, but the expression seemed forced and even painful on his troubled face. Edmund and Susan had merely looked blank.

She knew instantly that something had changed during their time away, but she was yet to figure out what that was.

As much as it pained her to admit it, it was now apparent that the happy carefree children she remembered were lost to her. Perhaps forever. The only logical explanation she could come up with was the war; their last few weeks at home had not been pleasant, and the air raids had forced her to send them (very reluctantly) to a safer area. It had been hard, and she had wept for several nights after their departure, but she knew it was for the best. She was a mother, and a mother's main priority was to ensure the safety, and survival, of her children no matter what the cost.

The bombings had stopped now; over forty thousand had lost their lives and many more had lost their homes, but the Penensie's had (thankfully) made it through the German attack unscathed.

On the surface, at least.

They were safe and reunited…why then, she wondered, did her children mill around the house as if something irreplaceable had been lost? Why didn't they smile, or laugh, or enjoy any of the childhood amusements that used to give them so much pleasure?

The Professor's letters to her over the past several months had all reported that they were doing quite well. Playing cricket on sunny days, keeping up with their studies, generally keeping quiet and being well behaved…

After reading such updates, she had been certain that things would return to normal once they came home. But now, after their sombre reunion and three tense weeks together, she was forced to admit that all was not well. She had wondered if they resented her for sending them away, but Peter had assured her that this was not the case when she had voiced these concerns to him last week.

"_We all understood, mum."_ He had said, with the distant smile she was now becoming accustomed to.

_Then why are you so different?_ She had been tempted to ask. _Where have my children gone?_

Instead, she had simply nodded, somewhat relived but far from placated. She had watched him for a few moments after that, hunched over one of his school books at the kitchen table, scratching away furiously on a sheet of paper beside him. He had looked like a boy on a mission; a boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. No, she had thought sadly after another few seconds, not a boy, a young man.

He was only fourteen, but she knew right then that his childhood was over.

Her Peter had grown up.

Over the next few days, she had made similar observations about all of her children. Edmund and Susan too, it seemed, now carried themselves with a striking air of maturity. Edmund, like Peter, had a new obsession with books, and she was surprised to find him studiously going over an old law tome he had taken from the library one evening. She had looked at the book herself after he had gone to sleep, only to find that the dense legal analysis the book contained was barely comprehensible to her. How could a twelve year old, she wondered, possibly understand something like this?

Like her brothers, Susan had also been showing an interest in new pursuits. She now spent most of her time alone in her room, and when Helen had ventured inside while the children were in the yard, she had been perplexed to find the rubbish bin overflowing with lists and sketches of arrangements for elaborate parties. Rather odd, she had thought.

Even Lucy, dear sweet Lucy, no longer showed the spark of childhood that Helen so longed to see. She was better then the others, it had to be noted, and was the only one to spend significant time with her mother since their return. But even she was quiet and reserved, in a way that Helen found quite unsettling. She had often caught Lucy starring desolately out the window, her eyes fixed sadly on the neighbour's cat or a sparrow in a tree as if she was looking for something in them that was no longer there. The girl had also begun to spend an increasing amount of time with her old sketchbook, and Helen had been shocked to see that her drawings were a far cry from the simple disproportionate images the ten year old had produced not to long ago. These new pictures were expertly done, and all seemed to depict the same beautiful land, spotted with knights, castles and a wide array of medieval-inspired subjects. Helen had no idea what had inspired such a change.

The only time the children seemed content, she had long ago observed, was when they were alone together. It was not uncommon for her to hear their chatter and quiet laughter in another room- but, much to her displeasure, this always stopped when she entered. When she was around, they spoke only in serious whispers, and she could not help but wonder what she had done to inspire such a reaction to her presence.

They hardly seemed to need her anymore, she painfully admitted and, although she still went to tuck them each in (as she always had) or rushed over to offer a hug when they needed comfort, Peter frequently beat her to it. She had secretly watched him make the rounds to each of their rooms one night, wishing them sweet dreams and saying something confusing about a "great Lion." She had seen him draw Lucy into his arms during a moment of sadness, and watched as he whispered comforting thoughts into her ears while she sobbed into his chest.

It was all so strange, Helen thought. So unexpected. She wondered if there was anything she could do to make them her children again.

Deep down, she doubted that any change was possible. She would just have to deal with the new dynamic that had developed, no matter how much her heart ached, and hope that one day they would develop a new need for her- if not as children, then perhaps as adults.

She heard Peter let out a small chuckle to her right, and she sighed as she pulled herself out of her musings and turned to watched Peter and Lucy speaking quietly by the fire. They were using the hushed tones she was becoming accustomed to, and she could make out little of what they were saying. Judging from the open sketchbook in front of them, she guessed that it had something to do with Lucy's most recent work, and she wished she could hear the full conversation. She was constantly on alert for something, anything, that would tell her why her children had changed so suddenly.

Lucy was beaming as he looked at her picture, and both smiled as he pointed down at something on the page.

"Looks like him, doesn't it?" She head Lucy mutter, a bit louder then before. Perhaps they were letting their guard down, Helen thought hopefully, perhaps they would forget that she was there and allow her to overhear one of their very secretive conversations.

Peter laughed quietly again. "It does. You'll have to ask him what he thinks." He replied, his voice full of more amusement then Helen had detected since their return. "He misses being that tall."

They continued to talk, but their voices dropped again, and the mother was unable to hear any more of their conversation for the next several minutes. She tired her best not to move or make any noise, still hoping that they would forget her presence and let something slip. She wished that she could see the drawing that they were looking at, but unfortunately the coffee table blocked her view. Who did it look like, she wondered- someone that had (somehow) gotten shorter, it seemed. Again, she could only sit and wallow in her confusion. Her children had said many strange things recently, and she was yet to figure anything out.

Much to her dismay, Helen felt a familiar tickle in her nose and, despite her best efforts to hold it back, she let out a sneeze.

Lucy and Peter stopped their whispering, and looked up at her. Lucy with a smile, and Peter with his distant gaze.

"Almost forgot you were in here, mum." Peter said. "Are you feeling ill? Can I get you anything?"

He stood up, and came towards her. For the umpteenth time in the past few weeks, Helen was struck by how…adult…he had become. He had the air of a strong but compassionate man, a far cry from boy she remembered and longed for.

"I am fine, Peter darling." She replied, shifting to release the leg that had fallen asleep during her effort to stay completely still.

He nodded but, much to her surprise, then reached out his hand and placed it on her forehead to check for a fever. She found herself shocked by this simple but unexpected gesture. She was the parent; she should be the one caring for _him_ and checking _his_ temperature. When had the tables turned?

"You feel a bit warm." He mused, looking at her with concern. "Though that may be because the fire is going. Nevertheless…" Peter paused and turned to face his sister. "Lu," He began "Would you mind fetching mum a cool cloth? There should be one in the lavatory."

Helen was surprised by his gentle yet authoritative tone, and could do nothing but watch as Lucy rushed out of the room to do as her older brother asked. The children used to hate it when Peter ordered them around- now, it seemed, they saw nothing objectionable about his requests.

"Peter, really…" Helen began to protest, but he held up his hand and she found her unable to continue. Should cold almost feel the authority radiating off of him. It took her aback, as so many things had recently.

Lucy returned a few seconds later, passing the cloth to Peter. He placed it gently on her head, and gave her a comforting smile. "There. That should help." He said, "Let us know if you need anything else."

_I need my children back_. She wanted to say. _I need to be your mother again._

Instead, she remained silent and watched as he and Lucy went back towards the sketchbook they had left lying on the floor.

She noticed Peter pause in mid step for a moment, his hand moving to his side as if he had felt a sudden pain. He seemed to shake it off however, and a second later he had joined Lucy on the floor once again.

Helen continued to watch him, thinking that perhaps he would be in need of some comfort after all (for once). Perhaps _he_ was the one getting ill.

A grimace crossed his face, and Helen stood up form her spot, the cold cloth falling forgotten onto the wooden floor.

"Peter, are you alright?" She heard Lucy ask.

She took a few steps towards the children, her concern growing as she waited for the answer to Lucy's question.

"Yes…I…" Peter began, struggling to push the pained look from his face. "I am…"

But before he could finish his sentence, another wave of pain seemed to hit him, much worse then before. He doubled over this time, clutching his stomach and closing his eyes tightly. He could no longer hide his anguish.

"Peter!" Helen cried, falling at his side, her motherly instincts kicking into full gear. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Lucy's eyes were wide with fear, and she placed a comforting hand on his back, obviously just as concerned as Helen.

"Peter!" The young girl exclaimed, her panic evident. "What is it? Please, tell me!"

Peter said nothing for a moment, and merely gave a shaky groan. Things appeared to be getting worse, not better. He drew a deep breath, and turned his head in Lucy's direction. This small movement seemed to be a struggle for him.

"Magic." He said, quietly, perhaps hoping Helen would not overhear. "I can feel magic."

The girl gasped, and Helen froze.

Magic?

What did that mean?

Perhaps he was becoming delerous…he needed help. And fast.

Lucy, however, did not seem to find his statement odd, and instead jumped to her feet. "I'll get Ed." She declared. "Maybe he'll know what to do."

Helen wondered, briefly, what her youngest son could possibly do but the thought was pushed from her mind and she noticed something very strange and very troubling. Her eyes grew wider, and she looked up to see Lucy (now too shocked to leave the room and summon Edmund as she had intended) looking equally worried. There seemed to be some sort of odd smoke forming around Peter's crouched body and she could not, in her panic, fathom what could be causing such a thing.

Her first thought was fire, but she could see that there was none near her son, and the smoke cloud which was beginning to form was different then any simple fire smoke se had ever seen.

She felt her confusion and heart rate increase as the mysterious substance continued to envelope his body, and she reached out to touch him. Perhaps she could pull him away from it- she needed to do something.

"Mum, no. Leave him."

Lucy's voice was sterner and more demanding then she had ever heard, and Helen recoiled from her suffering boy. She hardly noticed a loud thud from one of the upstairs rooms, and could only watch in shock as the scene unfolded before her.

Peter's groans had stopped (a good sign, she hoped) but the strange smoke continued to wrap around him, its strange tendrils seeming to draw him into a cloudy cocoon. She felt Lucy come up behind her, and pull her away from Peter's side. "Don't worry mum," She whispered, "I think it will be okay. I can feel it."

The smoke danced.

Helen stared.

And then suddenly, it was all over.

The strange substance left the room as quickly as it had come, and Helen stood up abruptly, anxious to see what had happened to her son. She could not even begin to explain this strange occurrence, but she hoped that Lucy was right to in her belief that it was not a threat.

As she stared down at the floor, however, the relief she hoped for did not come. Her eyes, if possible at this point, grew even wider and she found herself unable to blink or breathe.

Peter was gone…and a strange man had taken his place.

Or so she thought.

Much to her surprise, Lucy was not taken aback by the sight before them, and let out a shriek of happiness and she flung herself down at the man's side. She was grinning widely, happier then she had been since her return home.

"Peter!" She cried, burying her face in the man's chest. The man was lying on his back, she observed, but his eyes began to flutter as he felt Lucy's touch. Whoever he was he was, at least, alive.

"Lu." The strange man replied, his voice raspy as he pushed himself into a sitting position, the grimace on his face showing that this was not a simple task. He pulled her into an embrace, and placed a fatherly kiss on top of her auburn head.

Helen watched, a mixture of fear and curiosity welling inside of her. Where was Peter (this thought filled her with panic)? And why was Lucy so pleased?

Had she called him…

Pushing the final question from her mind, the woman set her gaze on the pair. The man was dressed in very odd attire, she noted, like something out of an Arthurian legend. His deep red tunic and rich brown cape did, somehow, suit him and the shaggy blonde hair and light scruff on his face gave him the appearance of a rustic, yet regal, fellow.

After a moment, the man opened his eyes and (much to her surprise) looked in her direction.

That was when she saw it.

_Those eyes_.

Those clear, honest, blue eyes.

They were so undeniably familiar.

"Peter." Helen whispered, more to herself then to the others in the room. "You're Peter."

He looked confused for a moment, before smiling. "Yeah, mum. Who else would I be? Of…"

He trailed off, clearly taken aback by the sound of his own voice. Gasping, he turned to his sister for confirmation. "Lucy…what?"

Lucy simply smiled again, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. "You're back, Peter." She replied, knowingly. "Just as you were when we left."

Helen had no idea what this meant, but Peter seemed to catch on quickly. He looked down at his hands, now much larger then they had been five minutes ago, and brought one to his face to feel the stubble now growing there.

"By the Lion's Mane!" He exclaimed, standing up abruptly as Lucy left his embrace. Helen noticed the sword hanging at his side, and wondered if the gold lion embezzled on his chest had anything to do with his strange exclamation. "This is impossible, and yet…"

"I think you should know by now, that nothing is impossible." Lucy said with a laugh.

She looked like she was about to say more, when the sound of loud footsteps from the floor above distracted all of their attentions. Lucy and Peter exchanged a look, and dashed from the room.

Helen, feeling as if she was in some sort of daze, followed her two children (or rather, one child and one grown son) out into the hallway. This must be a dream, she thought, unsuccessfully trying to convince herself that there must be some sort of logical explanation.

Seconds later, a fourth figure appeared at the top of the stairs, and clamoured noisily down to the downstairs hallway.

Helen could not suppress a small yelp as the figure came into full view; it was a young man, brandishing a sword and wearing strange blue attire in the same style as Peter's.

"What in Aslan's name is going on!" The new arrival shouted frantically, his gaze fixed on Lucy. The man paused for a moment, noticing the newly grown Peter for the first time, and allowed his sword to drop to his side. "Peter!" He exclaimed, his free hand raking through his dark hair as he took in the sight before him. Like Lucy, he instantly identified the tall blonde man and his eyes filled with some degree of relief. "But…how did this happen?"

Still dazed, Helen took a shaky step towards the three others, and she could not help but notice the familiar smattering of freckles across the dark haired man's face.

It couldn't be, could it?

"It's okay, Ed!" Lucy exclaimed, confirming Helen's suspicions. This man was Edmund, suddenly (like Peter) a decade older then he had been earlier that day. "I feel like this is supposed to happen. Like it is meant to be."

"Why here, though?" Edmund asked, looking back and forth between his siblings. "Why wouldn't he just send us back to Narnia first? And why not you and Susan?"

Narnia. Helen thought that she had heard that name before, in whispered conversations she hand not been meant to overhear. She never figured out what it meant, but the strange word did seem to be of some importance to her children. She assumed it had something to do with a game, something they made up; though the seriousness of their tone when she had heard them mention it left her with a nagging doubt.

At the sound of her sister's name, Lucy grew more excited and began to dash up the stairs. "I'm going to check on Susan." She declared, clearly enjoying this strange turn of events. "If she has changed, then maybe I am next!"

The girl disappeared out of sight, leaving the mother and her two grown sons alone in the hallway.

They were both much taller then her now, she observed, and so different. They had to be over six feet, and (although she knew that she, as a mother, was biased) both had handsome, well chiselled features. Peter was fair, and Edmund was dark, but there was a definite resemblance between the two, and the way they now carried themselves seemed to indicate a similar sense of nobility.

"Mum." She heard Edmund say, his voice now deep and strong. So different from the boy she had last seen at dinner, and yet something about his tone assured her that this was indeed her beloved younger son. He glanced at her for the first time since entering the hall, and then turned to Peter with a worried look.

"What do we do? How can we possibly explain…" he whispered, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and his older brother. Though they were both, suddenly, adults, it seemed that Peter was still the one to turn to for guidance and advice.

Unable to stay silent any longer, and needing some sort of comfort and explaination, Helen cut in.

"You're my sons." She said, more a statement then a question. She took a step towards them, her eyes looking them over again as she tried to search for more hints of familiarity. "My boys." She whispered, her voice was quiet and shaky, and she could feel that her heart was beating just as rapidly as it had been since Peter had doubled over in pain.

Edmund looked uncomfortable, and shifted under her gaze, while Peter gave her a sad smile.

"We are." Peter said, his voice deep and reassuring. He placed a tender hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry. This must be a shock."

Thinking that "shock" was a bit of an understatement, Helen nodded and placed her shaking hand on top of his large one. He was almost a head taller then her now, and she only just came up past shoulder.

"Oh Peter." She whispered, raising her other hand and bringing it up to brush his rough cheek. She stared at him for a moment, and he obligingly let her scrutinize him. She could see traces of his former self; his eyes, his hair, the gentle curve of his smile…and he had the same well defined jaw as her husband, she thought forlornly.

Her eyes darted to the slightly younger man, who still looked terribly uncomfortable, and she gestured for him to come nearer.

She needed to see.

She needed to be sure.

He reluctantly came forth and, after a pointed look from Peter, submitted himself to the same scrutiny. She could see the traces again; she noted with a mixture of dismay and pride, there was no mistaking that this was _her_ Edmund.

Helen barely managed to choke back tears as she drew her two sons into a tight embrace. Although it was odd to think that these men before her had been boys just minutes ago, the hug was warmer and more genuine then any they had given her since their return.

She felt so small and helpless…so confused and overwhelmed…and yet, as Lucy had said, things also felt strangely right.

The woman drew back, hoping to ask them for more of an explanation and wondering if there was any logical one available, but the sound of noise from upstairs provided a new distraction.

There were hurried footsteps, and two colourful blurs suddenly rushed down the steps. When they came to a halt, it was clear that the blurs were in fact two elegantly dressed young women.

"Peter! Edmund! Do you feel that?" One of the new arrivals asked. She was a strikingly beautiful dark haired figure, and Helen (beginning to catch on now) suspected that it might have been Susan.

"We can both feel a sort of pulling sensation." The second woman said, with a reconisable grin. "I think…maybe…he's calling us back."

Nodding, the two men turned to face the women. "I feel it too." Edmund stated, with a note of anticipation.

"As do I." Peter agreed.

Helen was confused, for the umpteenth time that evening, but said nothing. She did not feel anything out of the ordinary, aside from her complete and utter shock.

There was a moment of silence before Peter shouted "Grab onto me." With a sense of extereme urgency. The others quickly listened and, after hesitating for a second, Helen decided to follow his instruction as well.

She grabbed Peter's shoulder, grasping his tunic tightly and wondering what had gotten the four siblings in such an excited yet paniced state.

She saw Peter turn his head towards her, his eyes full of surprise, but before he could utter a word a strange sensation overcame them all and the world began to blur. The hallway melted away, her vision faded, and Helen felt as if she was being hurled through the open air.

The only thing keeping her steady and sane was Peter' shoulder, and she held on for dear life.

After several long moments of shock and confusion she felt herself being thrown onto a soft surface. Peter slipped away, but when she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, she could see that he was still near.

Relieved to find that four other figures were sprawled out before her, Helen blinked again and took in her new surroundings.

She was no longer in their dark house in Finchley and was instead sprawled out on a sandy, sunny beach.

"Home."

She heard Edmund mutter beside her.

"We're home."

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A/N Please give me your thoughts and let me know if I should continue!


	2. A Mother's Shock

(Last time…)

"_Home."_

_She heard Edmund mutter beside her. _

"_We're home." _

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She closed her eyes for a moment.

The sudden transition from a dark English hallway to the bright sunny beach had made her feel completely disoriented, and she needed a moment to collect herself. Her head was spinning, her eyes burned from the sudden and unexpected lighting change, and her heart rate had not yet slowed to anything resembling a normal pace.

_This must be a dream._ She thought, her mind trying to come to terms with the strange events of the last several minutes. _This is impossible._

How could her children have aged so quickly, right before her eyes, and how could they possibly have appeared on this mysterious beach in a matter of seconds? There was absolutely no possible explanation for such occurrences, and she was increasingly certain that she would soon wake up in her bed in Finchley. That was the only possibility that made any sense.

_It must be a dream. _

_A very elaborate dream… _

After a few more moments of lying on her back, feeling numb and confused, Helen drew herself into a sitting position; the soft sand beneath her fingers and the warm sun on her face told her that she had not yet woken up, and the realistic feel of it filled her with a nagging doubt.

_It must be a dream. _She told herself again, with less conviction then before.

Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes. The light was blinding at first, but after blinking several times she managed to adjust her vision. To her right, she could see and hear the crashing of the ocean; the water was so incredibly blue, and it looked too perfect and picturesque to be real. As she glanced down the horizon, she could see that the water was cut off on either side by steep rocky cliffs, and she noted with some bewilderment that the cliff to her left was topped by a large, magnificent white castle. If she had to guess from the scenery alone, she would have said that they were in Australia or maybe some obscure island in the tropics- but she knew that neither of those places were known for elegant castles, and thus neither option seemed quite right. This beach was unlike any she had ever seen, even in photographs, but she could not quite place her finger on why. Strange as it sounded, this place just felt…otherworldly…too perfect, and too stunning to really exist.

A squeal of glee to her right distracted her from her survey of the landscape, and she directed her gaze back down to her immediate surroundings. A few meters away from her, she could see four other figures (her children, she had to remind herself) piled up in a messy, tearful hug. There were so big now, she noted, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and yet the tearful grins of their faces made them look more youthful and carefree then they had since their return from the country.

She may have lost her sanity, but a part of her knew at that moment that _her_ children, the ones that knew how to smile and love and laugh, had finally returned- albeit, looking much different then before.

Helen watched them silently for a few moments, wishing that she too was part of the happy scene. Susan and Lucy had both dashed at Peter's broad chest, knocking the man over onto the sand and laughing through their tears as they all embraced. Moments later, Edmund was drawn into the fray by Peter and Lucy, who reached out and pulled him into the pile. He gave a small protest, but the others ignored him and he was soon wrapped up as well, smiling tearfully along with his siblings.

She couldn't remember the last time they had been this happy and carefree.

Her younger son's words echoed in her head as she continued to observe them. He had called this place home, she recalled with confusion, and it was apparent that all four were thrilled to be in this strange new area. It made little sense, as most things had that evening; when could they have possibly been here before? This place was a far cry from the rocky grey beaches of Britain and, as far as she knew, they had never left the United Kingdom.

How could a place they had never visited before be "home"?

"Look, it's Cair Paravel!" She heard one of the young women shout gleefully (she was not yet familiar with their mature voices, and could not distinguish between the grown Lucy and the grown Susan).

The four turned their heads in the direction of the castle and their laughs and shouts subsided. There was a moment of silence as they gazed up the cliff, and Helen could sense that (for some odd reason) they all had some sort of attachment to the strange looking building. They stared at it with such reverence,

"It is beautiful." Peter said quietly, his eyes fixed on the structure. "I think it is even more striking now, after having been away."

Helen was confused by this remark, but had little time to mull it over before Edmund spoke.

"How do you think they have managed without us?" He asked, wrapping a protective arm around Lucy as she lay her head on his shoulder.

There was another pause. "I am sure they are okay." Lucy replied, her tone revealing that she was not wholly convinced. "Though if we have been summoned back, then…"

She trailed off, and the siblings all seemed to be drawn into their own thoughts.

Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, Helen decided that it was time for her to make herself known. She had had enough of sitting on the sidelines, and was becoming slightly hurt by the fact that none of the children had acknowledged her since their arrival. They, clearly, seemed to know where they were and what was going on, and she had the right to such information.

She deserved an explanation, and they were going to provide her with one.

Standing up, shakily at first, Helen took a few steps towards the other four. Her back ached from the landing, and her right arm felt as if it had been twisted and pulled in several odd directions, but she ignored the discomfort as well as she could as she approached. If this was a dream, she thought (she was less and less convinced by this theory as more time passed), then it was certainly full of more physical sensations then she was used too.

Making herself as straight and authoritative looking as she could manage (which was not an easy feat when ones children were suddenly larger then she), she cleared her throat pointedly, snapping all of their attentions away from the castle.

They turned their heads towards her, and their eyes widened as the reality of her presence struck.

"Mum!" Lucy exclaimed, her face showing a mixture of happiness and shock.

Edmund and Susan looked equally surprised, and remembrance dawned on Peter's face.

"_What_ in the world is going on?" Helen asked, her voice as firm and demanding as she could make it in her current state of dismay.

The other four shifted uncomfortably under her glare, and she felt somewhat pleased by the fact that, despite the sudden advance in their ages and their distant behaviour during the past three weeks, she still held some degree of parental power over them.

"Please tell me that I am imagining this." She continued, her anger mixing with a hint of panic. "Tell me this is only a dream."

Peter and Edmund exchanged a look, while Lucy and Susan looked down at the sand to avoid her gaze.

Finally, Peter spoke.

"We can't do that, mum." He said, the guilt in his blue eyes suddenly reminding her of the time she had caught him and Edmund sticking their fingers in the cake she had prepared for Susan's sixth birthday (she suppressed a small smile at the thought). Peter was no longer a mischievous seven year old, but as she looked down at him sitting in the sand with her sternest glare, the glimmer of his former self was apparent. The fact that this man was _her _Peter was once again confirmed.

He looked away, and Edmund continued for him. "You're not dreaming. We're really here."

She stared at her dark haired son for a moment, before shutting her eyes once again and drawing a deep shaky breath. It still seemed impossible, but something in his voice told her that he had not been lying. He clearly believed that this was happening, and perhaps she should too…

"Alright then." She replied, deciding to play along, at least for now. "Then where are we, how did we get here, and how did you suddenly become adults?"

They all exchanged looks again, and seemed to come to a silent agreement that Peter would be their spokesman. Sighing, he ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair and attempted to offer some degree of explanation and comfort.

"First things first, I suppose." He muttered, carefully avoiding her gaze. "We're in Narnia."

Helen let out a small laugh.

"Right. Narnia." She stated, remembering the name from (what she had presumed to be) their discussions of an imaginary world. "And where on earth is that, exactly?" She folded her arms across her chest, trying to indicate that she wanted a proper, plausible answer, and waited for his response.

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable with this conversation. "Well, that's just it." Peter began again. "It's not exactly on earth."

_Not on earth?_ She thought, her eyes widening in annoyance and disbelief. That was absurd_. Of course_ they were still on earth; there was sand, and water, and trees…gravity appeared to be working normally, and they could still breathe just fine. It may have been a particularly striking beach, but it was still a beach and they were clearly not on some distant and barren planet.

"Well, you can get to it from earth." Lucy piped in, helpfully. "I mean, we did. Through the wardrobe at first, and now, somehow, we were drawn here from our hallway. It is not terribly unlike earth really, it's just a bit different. Nicer, prettier, but it shares many of the same qualities."

Helen could only stare ahead. Her children were making less and less sense, and their explanation had only made her confusion worse.

"I think it is best to see it as another reality." Susan added with a note of concern. Helen supposed that her shocked expression was probably quite unsettling at the moment, but she could not force herself to remain stoic in these circumstances. "I know it can be hard to deal with, mum." She continued sympathetically. "I always prided myself with being a logical person, but when I first came here I discovered that some things are too extraordinary to explain away with logic and reason. Sometimes you just have to accept that you will never really understand everything. Sometimes, especially here, the only explanation _is _magic."

For a moment, Helen remained frozen, her mind trying to absorb what Susan had said. She was grateful that her older daughter understood her mindset better then the others, and was able to relate, at least a little bit. Lucy seemed to accept things easily, and Peter appeared to have a similar openness- but Susan, as she had noted, needed more and had clearly spent time trying to make sense of things.

After a long pause, Helen nodded. "Alright. I think I can deal with that." She hesitated. "For now, at least." It still seemed absurd, but she doubted that there was anything they could say that would make it less so at the current time.

Peter looked relieved, and Susan smiled gently.

"So I suppose "magic" is your explanation for our rather sudden arrival?"

They all nodded in response.

"We don't have a good explanation for that yet." Edmund noted. "But we could all feel some sort of magical force overtaking us. And like Susan said, in Narnia, magic is something that you often have to accept without question."

"Alright," She said again, feeling too overwhelmed and exasperated out to push that matter further. Even if she found it impossible to believe, she was willing to accept their replies for the time being and see what other bits of information they were willing to offer. For a brief moment, it crossed her mind that this was, perhaps, nothing more then an elaborate hoax- but the warm sun on her face and soft sand beneath her feet were unlike anything she had experienced in England. How could anyone have possibly transported her far away to a warmer climate without her knowing it? And how could she explain the young men and women before her, who were so much older and yet so undeniably _hers_?

Magic was beginning to seem more and more plausible by the second- though she was not yet willing to let go of her dream theory.

Another pressing question popped into her mind, breaking her previous train of thought.

"How do you know so much about this place?" She asked, her gaze sweeping across all four. "And Edmund," She began, another memory striking her. "Why did you call it home?"

"Well, like Lucy said," Peter began, finally tiring of his sitting position on the sand and getting to his feet. "We have been here before- we, well, stumbled through a wardrobe at the professor's house that led us here."

Helen resisted the urge to let out anther laugh. The idea seemed crazy, but the serious expressions on their faces told her that they may take offence if she scoffed at the notion.

"We were here for a long time." Edmund continued, standing up next to his brother, his sisters following close behind.

"How long?" She asked, her voice quieter then before. Something about seeing her four grown children now standing before her, so beautiful and so inexplicably noble, had taken her aback.

The dark haired man smiled sadly. "Fifteen years." He said. "We grew up here. We lived and laughed and loved in Narnia, and we left our childhoods behind. Until, one day, we stumbled unexpectedly back to England, only to find that we had become children once again." He sighed and looked back down at the sand to avoid her gaze. "I am sorry mum, but this is our home now. We became Narnians, and England felt foreign to us when we returned…none of us was able to quite accept it, and we have wanted so desperately to come back. We tried to hide our misery, but the pain of leaving this place was too hard to ignore."

To her surprise, Helen felt a wave of relief wash over her, and her children exchanged confused glances as an unexpected smile broke out on her face.

_It all makes sense_. She thought, with undeniable joy.

_It all suddenly makes sense. _

As strange and unbelievable as it was, this new information made the tension and the misery of the past three weeks comprehensible. She had been struggling to explain their strange behaviour and sudden maturity, and she had begun to believe that their stoicism and coldness was her fault. In her darkest moments, she had wondered if they cared for her anymore, and if they would ever need her again- she had assumed that sending them away had been the worst and most unforgivable mistake of her life, and a vile sense of self-hatred had been growing inside of her.

She had pushed them away, she had thought, and they were pushing her back.

As a mother, she had always felt that it was her duty to understand her children, and provide them with what they needed to find happiness and success. This had not been too problematic in earlier years but, during the past few weeks, it had become painfully clear that she could no longer understand their desires and needs. They were not the children she had once known so well, and she could no longer be the mother she had once been.

Helen had felt like a complete and utter failure, and she had feared that they had been lost to her forever.

But now, standing on a sunny beach in a world she had believed to be imaginary, she finally understood, and finally felt complete again. They had, quite literally, grown up during their time away and their unhappiness in Finchley had not been her doing. They had missed this place and, after such a long time in another world, they had forgotten how to be children; she could hardly blame them for that (and she wondered for a moment what _she_ would do if she suddenly became ten years old again). The prospect of reconciliation, now that she understood what had been troubling them, and the relief that things were finally made clear filled her with a happiness she could hardly contain.

It still seemed so extraordinary, and yet a part of her knew that the dramatic changes she had seen on her children had to have some sort of equally dramatic explanation.

Maybe this was what she had been searching for.

The stress and heartache of the past few weeks finally began to melt away.

"Are you alright, mum?"

Susan's voice broke her out of her daze, and she forced back on her children with a warm smile.

"I am fine, darling." She replied, her voice quiet and pulsing with emotion. "Better then I have been in a long while."

They all looked confused (they deserved it, she thought playfully, after what they had put _her_ though), and she took another step in their direction, eager to examine them again. Now that it was all beginning to come together, she wondered if she could, in fact, become the sort of mother they needed once again. If she could accept that they were no longer children, then perhaps she could form a new bond with them; something more complex and mature, yet full of the same compassion and love she had always felt.

It would take some time and adjustment, she mused, but the prospect of it filled her with immense joy.

She set her gaze on her oldest first, once again noting the familiar jaw and clear blue eyes. He gave her a small smile, his lips moving in a way that was so recognisable and reassuring, and she could not help but return the gesture. He was tall, and broad now and yet the warmth and love that radiated off of him was so undeniably _Peter_.

"We'll help you through this, mum." He assured her, stepping forward to give her a gentle hug.

She did not doubt the sincerity of his words.

Susan was next, and Helen was happy to finally have a chance to examine her oldest daughter. Her hair was longer and darker then it had been as a child, and fell with more elegance across her long back then it had at the age of thirteen. Her beauty was striking; though Helen had always thought that her girls would grow into lovely young women, she had not quite anticipated how right she would be. She was graceful, regal even, and her full lips and stunning eyes made her rather breathtaking. Helen hoped that Edmund and Peter had done their brotherly duty and kept unscrupulous men away from her during their time here; knowing them, she was certain that they had.

She smiled again, and brushed her hand across Susan's soft cheek. "My beautiful girl." She whispered, her emotion once again getting the better of her.

The younger woman blushed and looked down. "Thanks, mum." She replied quietly, with obvious embarrassment.

After drawing her in for a hug as well, Helen moved down the line towards Edmund, who once again submitted himself to her scrutiny. She tried to memorize every line of his face this time, searing it into her mind as best she could. He had grown to be so handsome, she observed with pride- he had the same strong jaw and intelligent eyes as Peter, though with darker colouring and a slightly leaner build. Helen smiled once again as her eyes forcused on the freckles which brushed across his nose and cheeks; she had always loved Edmund's freckles, and was glad to see that they had not faded over time.

"Come on mum," Edmund muttered sheepishly, after several long moments of silence. "I am nothing much to look at."

Susan and Peter rolled her eyes, while Lucy giggled softly.

Shaking her head, Helen cupped his cheek and forced him to look back up at her. "I disagree." she replied as she pulled him into an embrace. "Although," she began again when they drew apart, a smirk forming as she said something that she never imagined she would have to say to her twelve year old. "You _could_ do with a good shave."

She heard Peter let out a chuckle, and she quickly fixed her gaze on him. "I wouldn't laugh, Peter darling." She said, still smiling. "You could use one as well."

It was nice, for a brief moment, to use the motherly tone she had so missed evoking.

Peter's grin faded and he rubbed the scruff on his chin thoughtfully. "I think it makes me look rustic." He muttered, with a slight pout.

Edmund snorted, and Susan rolled her eyes again.

Satisfied and amused, Helen turned her attention to her youngest child and stared at the girl for a long while before she spoke. Lucy was so different, she mused, and yet more familiar then the others. She couldn't have been much more then twenty, Helen noted, and her eyes shone with the same youthful glee she had always loved. Even here, fifteen years older and a world away, she was so reassuringly consistent. Like Susan, her long auburn hair had darkened and grown, yet it maintained a carefree haphazardness that Susan's had not. She was too was beautiful in Helen's eyes, but it was the sense of love and courage which she radiated which was most striking to the proud mother.

"Come here, my darling." She whispered, pulling her close.

Lucy smiled, and rested her head on her shoulder for a brief but wonderful moment.

"I love you mum." She said, so that only Helen could hear.

The woman smiled back although she knew that Lucy could not see. "I never doubted it." She replied.

Helen wished that the moment could have lasted longer, and was overcome by how content she felt with Lucy in her arms, but a sudden noise to their right distracted the five Pevensie's from their reconciliation.

Helen released Lucy and turned towards the section of trees where the noise had been heard. She watched, both perplexed and nervous, as Peter and Edmund drew their swords and moved towards the rustling. Peter went in front and, after a wordless nod to Edmund, the younger boy took up the left side. She got the sense that they had done things like this before; in an instant, her boys could become well-trained warriors, able and willing to take on any challenge. Their effortless teamwork was touching, but the sorts of experiences it would take to perfect their deadly skills were troubling to think about.

Perhaps she had not protected her children from the horrors of war after all.

The rustling grew louder, and she was too worried to protest when Susan and Lucy stepped protectively in front of her.

She held her breath.

It was coming nearer.

Three.

Two.

One.

A figure burst through the trees which stood at the edge of the sand, and for a moment Helen was unable to make out what it was. At first, it had appeared to be a man, but she then noticed the fur, and the horns and, most strikingly, the legs. He was unlike any creature she had seen before, but her children let out gasps of joy at his appearance.

Apparently, he was not a threat.

"Mr. Tumnus!" Lucy exclaimed, darting across the beach and falling into the creatures arms. "I feared I would never see you again!"

He seemed equally pleased, and shocked, to see her, and the others stood back and watched the reunion with a smile.

"You're back!" The man cried once Lucy had released her grip enough to allow him to breathe. "You have no idea how relieved everyone will be! Thank Aslan! I thought I head your voices, but I didn't dare hope…"

Peter stepped forward, grinning as he addressed the new arrival. "We are back indeed." He replied. "How long have we been gone? Are things alright?"

The creature turned to face the oldest sibling, emotion and relief evident on his face. "You have been gone for a year and a day." He said, bowing his head. "At first we held out hope, but that faded as the months past." Pausing again, he kept his gaze fixed down at his goat-like feet. "Things are not as well as they were when you left, despite our best efforts." He began with reluctance. "But I am sure that you will remedy that in no time. Come, your majesties, let's get you back to the castle. I can explain more on the way."

The four seemed eager to oblige, and Lucy turned to Helen and gestured for her to follow.

"Come on, mum." She cried, her eyes full of joyful tears once again.

But Helen did not move.

_Your majesties. _

The words rang through her head.

He had referred to her children as "your majesties."

Clearly, they still had a lot of explaining to do...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! I was shocked and pleased by the response! _

_Hope you liked this chapter as well- let me know what you think! Do you want more? Or is it dragging on too much? I want this to be focused primarily on Helen's experiences and emotions, but I also don't want it to be too boring…I enjoyed writing this, so I hope you enjoyed reading it. _

_More to come if you want. _

A few replies:

musicalinsanity7- No, I do not envision their father being dead and want to stay true to the

books. He is still away though, and will not appear, though may be mentioned again.

Lucy the Valiant- good point, I went back and modified the height descriptions somewhat ;)

Anime Princess – a special thanks for all of your reviews! I appreciate it!

And thanks again to everyone else!


	3. A Mother's Belief

(Last time…)

_Lucy turned to Helen and gestured for her to follow. "Come on, mum." She cried, her eyes full of joyful tears once again._

_But Helen did not move._

_Your majesties. _

_The words rang through her head._

_He had referred to her children as "your majesties."_

_Clearly, they still had a lot of explaining to do..._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lucy approached her, the concern evident on her face.

"Mum, are you alright?" she asked, gingerly reaching out to place a hand on Helen's shoulder.

Helen's eyes met hers for a moment and she took an involuntary step away from her daughter.

She felt numb, again.

Confused.

This entire experience was so incredibly bizarre, but for a few minutes she had felt as if she was finally getting her bearings. She had still not been quite sure what to think, but her children's honest expressions and earnest answers had been starting to, slowly, convince her that this was not a dream. She had touched them, hugged them, and they had not faded away…they had suddenly seemed so real and this place had seemed to truly exist…she had almost been willing to believe.

Now, however, soon after the arrival of the strange new man (Mr. Tumnus, as Lucy had called him) her doubt was flaring up once again. He had spoken to them as if they were royalty. Addressing them as "you majesties" and telling them that he would escort them back to the castle.

Helen glanced to her right for a second, her eyes resting on the magnificent white structure which crowned the highest cliff.

Surely he couldn't be taking them there; she tried to convince herself that this could not possibly be the "home" her children had spoken of with such yearning. It was difficult however, to forget the looks of desire on their faces as they had stared up at it several moments ago.

As much as she loved them, and no matter how wonderful and amazing she thought they all were, Helen knew that her children were not royalty. They were middle class Londoners; they got by well enough, in a mid-sized house with plenty of food to eat, but they were not among the elite of society. Passing by Buckingham palace on one of their many trips to central London was as close as any of them had ever been to royalty, and she was certain that this new arrival had to be off his rocker.

It simply wasn't possible.

Then again, she reminded herself as she averted her gaze back down to the beach, they were a long way from London, and aging fifteen years in five minutes and ending up in a far off land wasn't supposed to be possible either.

…or at least, that is what she had always thought.

She needed to know more.

"Wh…what does he mean?" She stuttered, hating how meek her voice sounded; she wanted so desperately to stay calm and collected, but every new revelation made that harder to achieve. She looked first at Lucy, then at Peter, hoping for some sort of explanation.

Peter's brow furrowed. "What does he mean about what?" He asked, clearly confused (as everyone else seemed to be) by her sudden state of shock. Apparently, no one else had given a second thought to the way in which the stranger addressed them, a fact which only worsened her confusion.

Why didn't they find the idea as unbelievable as she did, she wondered.

The mother drew a deep breath before speaking again, hoping to make things clearer then before.

"Why did he refer to you as "you majesties"?" She paused. "You're not…you can't be…"

Realization dawned on the oldest siblings face, and he raked his hand through his hair. It was a nervous habit he had not grown out of, it seemed.

"Ah, right. That." He muttered, taking a few steps towards her. "I don't exactly know how to put this without making it sound terribly odd…" The man trailed off, clearly struggling to find the best way to continue. After another moment, he gave up, and turned back towards the two middle siblings. "Ed, Susan," He began again. "Maybe you can explain things more eloquently then I can."

Sighing, Edmund decided to take up the challenge. "Mum," He started, in a way that (perhaps unintentionally) made her feel like the child in the conversation. "Tumnus referred to us as "you majesties" because, well, we are…errr…majesties, or rather, royalty, here."

She said nothing, and he continued, stumbling over his words much less the second time around. "What I mean to say is, we didn't just live in Narnia for fifteen years, we were in charge of it. We ruled over it, as kings and queens."

The others did not correct him, and Helen could tell that this was an explanation they all agreed on. She had half expected somebody to laugh as he spoke, and tell her that it was only been a joke; but evidently, no one thought it was funny.

They believed it.

And she had little choice but to go along.

Denying things, at this point, would achieve little.

"All of you?" She asked slowly, trying to gather her frantic thoughts and quash the dizziness that was threatening to overcome her. She had never heard of a country with four monarchs before. "You were…are…" She faltered before finally finishing her question "Kings and queens?"

The four nodded, all looking at her as if she might ether collapse or explode at any moment. Helen, however, had no intention of doing either.

"Well, it's a bit more complicated then that." Edmund continued cautiously. "We all have out own titles and duties. I am called King Edmund the Just." He explained a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "I handle most of the legal and constitutional matters."

The woman nodded, her mind flickering back to the dusty old law tomes she had caught her youngest son reading during the past few weeks. It had seemed so odd then, but suddenly, it fit. Once again, being in this strange place and listening to these strange things was filling in the gaps that had been eating away at her in recent weeks.

"Lucy is known as Queen Lucy the Valliant, and she is the one that spends the most time meeting with our subjects and listening to their grievances." Lucy smiled as Edmund spoke and, much to Helen's confusion, Tumnus beamed at her with a look of fatherly pride on his face. "And Susan is Queen Susan the Gentle here. She keeps the castle running, and ensures that all of our subjects and foreign visitors are met with the best hospitality in the land."

Edmund paused for a moment, a slight smirk passing across his face, before finishing his explanation.

"Then there is Peter who, for some inexplicable reason, most people call High King Peter the Magnificent. I have never quite understood how that title got started, as it is clearly not as appropriate as the others…"

"Thanks, Ed." Peter cut in, folding his arms across his chest and trying to keep a stern expression on his face. Helen could tell, however, that he was quite used to his brother's teasing and didn't particularly mind. "I'll remember you said that next time you need me to save your ass in battle."

Edmund scoffed. "Yeah, like I need your help. I don't think I need to remind you who beat who in last year's tournament." He shot his brother a cheeky grin (some things never change, the mother noted with both exasperation and relief), before turning back towards her.

"Well, as I was saying," His playfulness faded as he spoke, "Peter is the High King, which means he is technically a bit above the rest of us. He usually focuses on foreign policy and military pursuits, though he is responsible for overseeing pretty much everything else as well. We all live there-" he paused and pointed at the castle on the hill, "At Cair Paravel, and have ever since our coronation fifteen years ago."

Edmund stopped, his explanation complete, and Helen attempted to come to terms with what she had been told.

She found it hard to believe, but she could see no reason why they would lie to her about this. She could see the castle from here (indicating that it definitely existed- or at least, existed to the same degree that the rest of this place existed) and if, as Mr. Tumnus had suggested, they were about to make the trek up there she would soon have all the proof she needed to confirm their rank in this strange kingdom. It could, plausibly, be a joke they had decided to play, but she did not see how they could have possibly conspired with Tumnus on this if they had only just arrived back in this land. And, she mused, Edmund's explanation had seemed so natural and sincere; she had to admit that he had spoken with a convincing degree of conviction.

Despite her best logic, Helen found herself beginning to believe.

"Alright," She began, her voice much steadier then before. "Then let's go to the castle."

She felt Lucy take her hand, and she allowed herself to be led into the thick forest, too wrapped up in thought to notice the rough branches and prickly bushes brushing against them as they went.

Looking back over the past several weeks, more pieces began to fall into place. Edmund's studying, Lucy's compassion, Susan's planning, Peter's authority, the way they all walked and spoke with a new-found air of nobility; she had taken note of all of these things, been confused by them, but had never managed to put it all together.

She couldn't really blame herself for not finding the answer, she supposed, no sane or rational person would ever come up with something like this…but, now that it had been placed before her, she was beginning to understand.

It was crazy.

It was shocking.

But, somehow, it made sense.

"Mum." Lucy tugged on her arm, snapping her out of her daze. "I must introduce you to Mr. Tumnus!"

She picked up her pace, noticing for the first time that her tired legs were beginning to burn from the uphill walk towards the palace. Trying her best to ignore it, she smiled at the strange man who seemed to have befriended her children.

"This is our mum, Helen Pevensie, as you may have guessed," Lucy began, as they caught up to Tumnus. "She has come back to Narnia with us."

He smiled, and Helen took note of his oddly shaped ears and the tiny horns protruding from his head. When they had said that this was another world, they had not been exaggerating; she had never seen anyone like him in England and she wondered if it would be rude to ask what exactly he was.

"It is lovely to make your acquaintance." He replied, pausing for a moment to make a slight bow in her direction. "I can see that our sovereigns are very happy to have you with them, and I look forward to welcoming you to Cair Paravel."

She was pleased to think that her children were, indeed, happy to have her there, though she was not yet entirely convinced that this was the case. Perhaps, she mused, it was too early to make such a judgement.

"And mum," Lucy continued cheerfully. "This, as we have said, is Mr. Tumnus. He is the first faun I met when I came to Narnia, and has been a dear friend and trusted advisor ever since."

Ah, he was a faun, she noted, trying not to let this revelation shock her too much. Clearly, Narnia was inhabited by more then just average humans and she suddenly had a nagging feeling that he would not be the oddest creature she would meet that day.

"Lovely to meet you as well." She reached out her hand for him to shake, and was confused by the small chuckle he let out.

"Ah, of course." He said quietly as he took her hand and swung it back and forth rather oddly. "I had almost forgotten about that strange custom from Spare Oom."

Helen had no idea what to make of this statement, but decided to let it go. It would be easier, she supposed, to not dwell on all of the small details; for the sake of time and her own sanity, she could not afford to question every little oddity.

Instead, she simply smiled.

A few seconds later she heard Peter, who was at the head of the group, call for Tumnus to come speak with him and Edmund. The Faun gave her another bow, before quickly bounding in the direction of her sons.

Helen tried to make out what she could from their conversation, but after catching only random words such as "Telmarines" (she wondered what that meant) and "giants," she gave up on getting anything meaningful out of them.

Instead, she turned to face Susan and Lucy who were both walking on her left. It was a bit difficult to speak, due to the effort involved in climbing the fairly steep hill, but her curiosity overcame her fatigue and she decided that there was more (much more) that she could not wait to know.

Wanting to get right to the most pressing question on her mind, Helen turned her head towards the girls and began. "How did you become kings and queens?" She asked, slightly breathless as she walked. "I may not know much about this place, but I do know that you were not born into the role- I think I, of all people, would know if you had been."

The two young women exchanged a look, and their mother was relieved when they began to explain.

Lucy spoke first, telling her about the wardrobe and her first meeting with Tumnus, her second adventure in the Narnia (with Edmund, this time), and finally the entry of all four siblings. She described getting separated from Edmund (though, Helen noted, she seemed to get a bit vague on the details at this point in the story), noted the importance of the prophecy, and told her about finally finding Aslan (who, she explained with clear reverence, was an important and well-loved figure for the Narnians). Helen was happy to finally find out who he was, after hearing her children mention his name several times during the past few weeks.

Susan had picked up when Lucy had grown tired, describing their reunion with Edmund, the sacrifice of Aslan, and the battle that (much to Helen's horror) Peter had commanded.

"But he was so young!" the mother exclaimed, disturbed by the thought of her children forging into battle. She found it hard to accept that Peter had been leading troops and witnessing horrible atrocities since the tender age of thirteen.

Susan merely smiled reassuringly and glanced up at her brother, who remained several meters ahead with Edmund and Tumnus. "I suppose." She said thoughtfully. "But Peter is made for that sort of thing. He did brilliantly."

She had gone on with the story after this, telling Helen about their narrow victory and final defeat of the White Witch.

"We saved as many as she could." Susan explained, the sadness in her voice indicated that some, despite their efforts, had been lost in the fight. "And Aslan brought us here, to Cair Paravel, where we were crowned as the sun set in the Narnian sky. It was overwhelming, but wonderful." She paused, letting out a wistful sigh. "It is a day I will never forget."

Helen looked down at the leaf-covered ground for a moment as they continued to walk. Although she knew that the story the girls had told her over the last several minutes was much abbreviated, it was still a lot to take in. Their coming had, evidently, been foretold, and after winning a battle (the thought of which made her shudder again), they had been placed on the throne by this mysterious "Aslan."

It was all so…extraordinary…and yet, she once again found herself abandoning all logic and wanting to believe every word of it.

"So, you ruled for most of the fifteen years you spent here." Helen stated, more to herself then to her companions. Saying things aloud, she sometimes found, helped them to better sink in.

Susan and Lucy both nodded their cheeks flushed from their steady climb.

"Yes," Susan replied. "We were young, and it wasn't easy at first, but we grew into it. Peter took the brunt of it, initially, though I tried to help the best I could. It was easier once everyone was older."

Another thought struck her, and after trying (unsuccessfully, in her frazzled state) to calculate it herself, she decided to give up. "How old are you?" She asked, glancing at them both and trying to guess from their current appearances, feeling (once again) like a horrible mother for not knowing. Though, she reminded herself, this was a highly unusual situation and it was not really her fault that she was unsure of her suddenly grown children's ages in this alternate reality.

"When we left, I was twenty-seven, Peter had just turned twenty-nine, Edmund was twenty-five, and Lucy was almost twenty-three." The oldest girl explained. "Judging from how we look and what we are wearing, I don't think that has changed, even though four months have passed in England and a year has passed in Narnia." Sensing Helen's confusion, Susan added. "Time works differently here."

"Ah, of course." She muttered, bemused by the fact that such proclamations were, already, starting to shock her less and less.

Countless other questions were swimming in her mind, but as she looked up at the sight emerging before her, everything else was pushed away.

They were finally approaching the magnificent white castle (not a moment too soon, she thought, unable to ignore the pain in her legs), and she could do nothing but gape at the sight of it. Helen had seen her fair share of British castles, but no crumbling stone structure on the coast of the Atlantic could possibly compare to this. It was massive, bigger then any building she had ever seen; the central portion was huge, and there were countless wings and towers branching off from it. Even more remarkably, it seemed to be made almost entirely out of white marble, which glinted beautifully in the clear sunlight.

The sight nearly left her breathless.

She had stopped just behind Peter and Edmund, who had halted their trek as soon as the ground had levelled out. Tumnus had rushed ahead, it appeared, but (after a quick glance at her children's faces) she chose not to ask them about his departure; they were all staring up at the palace, the awe, admiration and happiness evident on their faces.

She could not bring herself to interrupt this moment.

"Home." Edmund muttered, for the second time that day.

The others nodded in agreement, their eyes fixed on the stunning structure before them. It was a far cry from their humble abode in Finchley, but Helen could understand their attachment to this amazing palace, even if it still seemed strange and foreign to her.

"Home." Lucy confirmed.

After a few more moments of silence, Peter turned, and offered the explanation she had been hoping for.

"Tumnus has gone ahead to tell the court we have arrived." He said, his eyes full of anticipation. She had missed seeing him filled with such happiness. "He should be back in a moment."

They waited (Helen starring at the marble structure and wondering how many people, and creatures, this castle contained) and, true to his word, Tumuns soon bolted back out of the main entrance.

"They are ready, your majesties!" He proclaimed, hopping giddily from foot to foot. "Everyone is being summoned to the great hall. Come. They are overjoyed by the news."

Nodding thankfully at their friend, the four began the final leg of their journey. As they took their first steps towards the castle, Helen hesitated, feeling terribly out of place and wondering if she should follow. They may have felt like they belonged here, but she (despite her slow acceptance of the situation) most certainly didn't. It may have been their home, but it was not hers.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see Mr. Tumnus smiling warmly beside her.

"Come, Lady Helen." He said, his gentle tone suggesting that he could sense her apprehension.

"Oh, I'm not…" She began, wanting to correct him and explain that she was just an average housewife with no title at all, but he did not allow her to finish her statement.

"The court is eager to meet you as well," The faun continued, nudging her forward "And I know the Kings and Queens will be happy to have you at their side."

Helen opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to find an appropriate response. A part of her was suddenly overcome with the desire to run back to the safety of the trees, and wait there in seclusion until she was able to find a way back to Finchley. She did not know what to expect inside the castle (though she supposed it would be just as shocking an unexpected as everything here seemed to be), and she needed some time to deal with all of the information she had already received.

She wasn't sure if she could take much more today.

As she glanced ahead at her four children, however, so determined and noble as they walked towards the castle, she was also struck by a combination of curiosity and pride. She _did_ want to be there for them, if their arrival was the joyous event that they suggested it would be. She wanted to see them happy, and she wanted them to know that (despite her shock) she loved them dearly and was proud that they meant so much to the people of this strange land.

In the end, it was the latter urges which triumphed and inspired her tired legs to walk behind the four siblings as they came to the unbelievably large entrance hall of Cair Paravel.

The main doors were opened by two guards (she did not know what they were, but noticed that they were extremely hairy), and her eyes widened when various creatures and animals inside the entrance bowed as she, Tumnus and the four siblings approached.

Already, this was proving to be a very surreal experience.

The interior of the castle was just as striking as the exterior, and Helen found herself mesmerised by the beauty and luxury of it. Perfect marble floors, ceilings with elegant golden chandeliers, the variety of rich paintings and tapestries hanging from the walls…it was a spectacular sight, and if it had not been for the sound of the large trumpet (which was blown a few meters in front of her by a dark brown centaur), she probably would have paused in the hallway a moment longer.

As it was, the horn broke her daze, and she turned her attention back to her four children, who were lined up, shoulder to shoulder, in front of her. They were slightly tousled from their trek up the hill and she (always the observant mother) could see flecks of sand and dirt on their strange medieval-inspired attire, but they held themselves with such grace and dignity that those things became of little importance.

It was their presence, rather then the details of their appearance, which was most striking at that moment.

They were a far cry from the lifeless and forlorn children she had known in Finchley.

The large oak doors before them swung open as the trumpet sounded again. She felt Mr. Tumnus gently nudge her forward, and she soon found herself stepping into a grand hall which was even more elegant then the entrance way. As they walked between the two central rows of marble columns, Helen tried to take in the scene before her. Her heart began to beat rapidly once again, and the dizziness threatened to return, but she did her best to remain calm and composed.

She could do this.

She had to.

For them.

There were several creatures in the gigantic room; fauns, centaurs, animals of every colour and description…and all, much to her amazement, fell into silent bows as they walked past. The trumpet had stopped, and there was (surprisingly, considering how many individuals were present) scarcely a sound as the Pevensie's made their way towards the front of the hall. There were four thrones in front of them, Helen observed as they continued their surreal march, and as she fixed her gaze on them the reality of the situation stuck her once again.

This was really happening.

They had been telling the truth.

Tumnus rushed ahead, stepping up onto the platform which contained the thrones and motioned for all present to rise (he was the master of ceremonies, it seemed). The four siblings stopped, just before the step, and Helen quickly halted her movement as well, wondering what was going to happen next.

"People of Narnia." Tumnus began, suddenly more assertive then he had seemed earlier. "It is my great honour, and humble privilege, to announce the joyous return of our beloved sovereigns to this great land."

Helen jumped slightly as a deafening cheer erupted around them. "Joyous," it seemed, was a bit of an understatement.

As the cheers continued (thankfully, a bit less rambunctiously then the initial outburst had been), the four stepped forward (Peter giving a grateful nod to Tumnus as he passed) and took their seats in the elegantly carved marble thrones. Helen did not move, too stunned and transfixed on the sight before to do much of anything.

She fought back a myriad of emotions as she watched them smiling graciously out at the crowd from their four thrones. They looked a bit overwhelmed and tired, she observed (though she doubted that most onlookers would notice such things), but the happiness and contentment on their faces was genuine. Her heart nearly burst with pride; they were so regal, so beautiful and, if the reaction of the crowd was any indication, their deeds during their time here were revered and loved. And yet, she noted with a pang of sadness, there was no doubt in her mind after that moment that their childhoods were truly gone. As they sat before their people, they looked more mature and adult then they had before; they were no longer children from Finchley, but kings and queens, responsible for the survival and wellbeing of their country.

Although, she was finally beginning to understand them again she could not suppress the feeling that something irreplaceable had been lost.

She had found Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy, but she knew that they would never again be the children she had once known.

She watched, a lump building in her throat, as Tumnus scuttled across the platform, placing intricate crowns (which had been lain out on a table to his right) on each of their heads.

Their were more shouts from the crowd as he reached each of them.

"Long live King Edmund!" The room roared, as her youngest son was crowned.

Susan was next, and her crowing was accompanied by a similar shout. "Long live Queen Susan!"

"Long Live Queen Lucy." Her youngest was third.

And finally, the large gold crown was placed atop the oldest siblings head. The cheers, if possible, grew even louder then before.

"Long live King Peter, High King of Narnia!"

Peter gave a small smile, and Helen watched as he stood up from his throne and took a few steps forward. When he stopped, he held up a large hand, and the crowd instantly fell silent. It was amazing, Helen mused, that he could control such a gathering with a simple gesture; if she did not have such faith in the goodness of her children, she would have found such authority to be a troubling thing.

"My brother, sisters, and I thank you for your warm welcome." Peter began, addressing all that had gathered. She was struck by the balance of warmth and power he was able to portray with his tone. Susan had been right, Helen realized, Peter _was _made for this sort of thing. "And we ask you to forgive us for our sudden departure. I assure you that we never intended to abandon our kingdom, and that we did everything in our power to find our way back. Our absence pained us greatly, and we are happy that we have been able to return to our beloved country at last. Aslan willing, we pledge never to leave again."

As he paused, Helen could not help but mull over his final statement.

They never wanted to leave…never wanted to return to Finchley…

Deep down, she knew that she should not be surprised by such a proclamation (the happiness that had filled them since their return indicated that they were much more content here), but it still hurt to hear it said so plainly.

"There was, however, some good that came of our unwilling departure." Peter began again, looking (much to her surprise) in Helen's direction. Her sadness was quickly replaced by shock. "We were returned to the place of our origin and reunited with our mother, who has now returned with us to this great kingdom. I trust that you will help us welcome her to Cair Paravel."

There was a moment of silence after this declaration, and Helen felt as if every eye had turned to her as Peter stepped over and helped her onto the platform. She stood at his side for a moment, feeling horribly out of place (her simple blue skirt and brown cardigan seemed to mark her as an outsider), and she could hear a few whispers from among the generally good natured crowd. Her arrival must be unexpected, she supposed, and (at the age of forty) she likely looked much too young to be the mother of the nearly-thirty year old Peter. Nevertheless, after a few uneasy moments, the crowd cheered again and she felt Peter drew her into his arms for a warm embrace.

"I know it must be a bit overwhelming, mum." He whispered so that only she could hear. "But you'll get used to this sort of thing. I promise."

When they drew apart, Helen took a few steps to the side, hoping that the pillar on the left of the platform would hide her (at least partially) from the curious eyes which continued to follow her.

She reminded herself to stay calm, and tried not to focus on the crowd before by starring up at the intricate architecture of the ceiling.

Meanwhile, Peter continued. "I have been updated on the current situation in Narnia." He said, his tone more sombre then before. "And I assure you that we will all work tirelessly to ensure that our kingdom remains safe and secure. We-"

The High King was cut of suddenly by the sound of trumpets at the other end of the hall. The main doors swung open again, and Helen inched forward, wondering who else would require such fanfare (perhaps Narnia's government was even more complex then she thought, and there were other monarchs as well). At first, all she could make out was a warm orange glow, but as the light dimmed, she could see that the new arrival was, in fact, a large lion.

She noticed, from the corner of her eye, that Edmund, Susan and Lucy had bolted up from their seats to join Peter at the front of the platform and was even more perplexed when, moments later, all four knelt down.

The rest of the hall, she noticed, had also begun to kneel as the lion walked slowly down the main aisle. They were silent again, as they had been when she and her children had entered.

Although logic told her that it was a bit odd to bow to a large feline, she was overcome with a similar urge as he came nearer and she fell quickly to her knees. She knew that she should be afraid (lions, after all, were not tame animals) but, much to her confusion, she found herself filling with adoration rather then fear.

This, clearly, was no ordinary lion.

When he reached their end of the room he stopped his graceful walk and nodded towards the kings and queens.

"Rise, sons of Adam and daughters of Eve."

His voice was warm, yet Helen sensed that he was not one to be disobeyed.

Turning her head ever so slightly, she watched the four siblings stand. They smiled down at the lion and (although she didn't think it was possible) the lion smiled back.

Much to her surprise, Lucy spoke first. "Aslan! I have missed you terribly!" She proclaimed, her face beaming at the sight before her.

So _this _was Aslan, Helen realized, slightly shocked.

Lucy had mentioned him during her stories that day, but had failed to mention that he was a lion. Helen had pictured him as some sort of knight though, she noted, the lion motif she had noticed on their clothing now made much more sense- as did the strange expressions (such as "by the Lion's Mane" and "thank the Great Lion") she had heard the children using during the past few weeks.

Clearly, he was a figure of much importance in Narnia.

The lion chuckled, breaking Helen out of her daze.

"And I have missed you, my kings and queens." He replied graciously.

"Did you call us back, Aslan?" Lucy pressed. "We've been wondering why we were returned so suddenly." Helen noticed Peter nudge her- he was clearly not as comfortable addressing the lion in such an informal manner.

She wondered why her youngest child seemed to have such a bond with the creature.

The lion nodded its shaggy head. "I did indeed, Queen Lucy." He replied, not seeming to mind her blunt questions. "You were never meant to leave before full peace had come to Narnia, and your departure was not to be permanent." He gave the four another warm smile. "Your work here is not complete, and you will remain in your kingdom until you have done all you can."

There was a long pause.

"If I may ask, is there any indication of when that will be?" Peter questioned, more hesitant in his words then Lucy had been. "Will we be drawn away so suddenly again?"

Aslan turned towards him.

"Unfortunately, King Peter, I cannot say when or why you will depart again. It could be days, weeks, or years from today." Sensing the king's apprehension, the lion gave another reassuring smile. "But do not let it worry you, when the time comes, it will feel right, and you will know."

Peter nodded, seeming to find this answer at least somewhat satisfactory.

"And what of our mother?" Lucy piped in again, glancing in Helen's direction. "Will she stay as long as we do?"

The woman froze.

This lion seemed to have such great power...perhaps he would send her back, tell her that she was not welcomed here, and tear her away from her children once again.

She did not think she could bear another separation.

"Ah, yes." Aslan said simply, with another look at the youngest monarch. He paused for a second before, much to Helen's dismay, taking a few graceful steps in her direction.

_Let me stay,_ her mind screamed as he approached.

_Please let me stay. _

_I can't leave them again._

"Rise." He commanded, and she obeyed.

She looked straight at him for the first time, and his gentle amber eyes instantly drew her in. Her heart rate began to slow and her fear began to fade.

Suddenly, and despite her best logic, she knew that everything would be alright.

"Fear not." The lion said, smiling again. Helen knew that she was in a hall crowded with people but, somehow, it felt as if they were now the only two beings in the room.

"I know you heart, and I know your mind." His words were mesmerising, and she found herself unable to reply. "I can sense that you can do much good here, and I suspect," He paused for a moment, carefully considering his next words. "That you might be the reason behind the early departure of the kings and queens. You were needed here, and without you, things could never be complete."

With that, the lion turned his golden head and his eyes locked on hers for a brief but powerful moment.

He smiled at her gently, knowingly.

And she believed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N Phew! That took ages!_

_If you are a bit confused by the very end, never fear, it will be explained in more detail later. _

_Thanks again for the great response- I am glad people are enjoying it. Let me know what you thought, and if you want more!_

Some Answers:

RixxiSpooks- I am leaning pretty heavily on the movies, though I am trying to work in things I remember from the books (I need a refresher though). Hope there are not too many inconsistencies. Thanks for the review!

Jade Star- the trouble should be made more apparent in the next chapter, and I will try to work in a few favourite characters.

Anime Princess- I incorporated mention of their ages into this chapter (after consulting the trusty Narnia timeline that came with the books)- so yes, I have got it set now.

Cassandra's Paradox- yep, totally wish fulfilment. What would fanfiction be without it?


	4. A Mother's Daughters

_Sorry for the longer wait- I get busy mid-week and don't have time to write. I have a few school related things to get through this week, so not sure how long it will be until the next chapter, but encouragement helps!_

_Thanks for the reviews! _

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The rest of the evening passed in a flurry of dance and music.

The Great Lion had slipped away soon after is dramatic appearance, but most were already too wrapped up in the festivities to take much notice. It had been a very haphazard and spontaneous celebration (the return of the kings and queens, after all, had been quite unexpected), but Helen could not recall the last time she had so much fun; a few of the fauns and centaurs had fetched instruments and begun to play an assortment of lively tunes while the rest of the court filled the large hall with enthusiastic dance and chatter.

Helen had been introduced to several people throughout the evening- two beavers, a rather large raven, a few dwarfs, several fauns…the list went on. Despite her fatigue, she had greeted them all warmly, though she knew that she would likely forget their names with all of the other excitement of the day still on her mind.

Although she had never been much of a dancer, she could not avoid being drawn into the celebration by her ecstatic children (who, she had observed, were all surprisingly skilled on the dance floor), and had been tossed between various partners throughout the night. It was all a bit of a blur really; she could vaguely remember dancing with her sons at one point, and could recall being pulled through a particularly complicated dance by a rather energetic faun. The entire experience reminded her of the time she had paid a visit to Dublin and attended a similarly fast-paced dance in a church hall, though the Narnian jigs and reels were all a bit different then anything she had heard before.

After what felt like hours, Edmund had pulled her aside (clearly noticing her exhaustion) and asked if she wanted someone to escort her too her room. She had said yes, thinking that it was best to make an exit before she collapsed, and had been led away from the noise of the great hall to a blissfully quiet room in the east wing.

Sleep overcame her the moment her head hit the pillow, and she quickly drifted away, exhausted, but content.

She must have slept for several hours, for when she awoke she could see that the sun was in a mid-day position in the sky. For a moment, all she felt was confusion. The silk sheets and tall purple canopy above her told her instantly that she was not in her bed in Finchley, but it took a few seconds before the events of the previous day came rushing back.

Her children.

The beach.

The castle.

The lion.

Yes, she remembered now, though the thought of what had gone on during the last little while still seemed incredibly surreal.

A few moments after regaining consciousness, Helen rolled over to see a young woman sitting patiently in the chair beside her bed. At first, she was not sure who the figure was but, again, her mind flashed back to the previous day and realization came.

"Lucy?" she asked quietly, turning towards the woman at her side.

She was so much older now; her darling little girl had been replaced by a beautiful young woman in an instant and, once again, the reality of it filled her with a now-familiar combination of sadness and pride.

Most mothers had the luxury of seeing their children slowly develop and grow over the years.

Helen, it seemed, would never have that chance and she knew that accepting this fact would take some time.

"Oh, you're finally awake." Lucy replied, smiling warmly. "How are you feeling?"

Helen hesitated for a moment, thinking about her answer. She felt alright, though her head was a bit hazy and her legs still felt tired from the pervious day's excursions.

"Okay, I suppose, just a little groggy and sore."

"Understandable." The young woman said with a quiet chuckle. "Yesterday was probably not the most relaxing day you've had."

Helen smiled as she pulled herself up into a sitting position and pushed her dark brown hair out of her eyes. "No, relaxing is certainly not the word I would use to describe it." She agreed.

There was a pause before she continued.

"So," the mother began, taking a glance around the room. It was large and far more elegant then any bedroom she had ever occupied. She could faintly remember being escorted there last night, though she had been so completely exhausted by that point that she could not recall it well. She had certainly not taken the time to observe her surroundings then. "This is really happening, isn't it. We're really here." It was more a statement then a question.

"It is, and we are." Lucy said, nodding.

Helen nodded back, fidgeting with the purple silk sheets as she tried to collect her thoughts.

She could no longer doubt the fact that she was, indeed, awake, nor could she deny that she and her children were now occupying an exquisite castle in a fantastical land. As strange as it sounded, the moment she had stared into the lion's amber eyes, everything had seemed to come into focus. The reality of the situation had struck her with such amazing force that all of the doubts which had been swimming through her mind had melted away almost instantly. She couldn't explain it, and found the experience hard to describe, but she knew that something inside of her had changed.

What Susan had said to her the previous day now made complete sense.

_Sometimes, especially here, magic is the only explanation_.

For now, knowing that was enough.

"I brought you some breakfast." Lucy stated, standing up to fetch a tray she had placed on the elegantly carved dresser near the door. "The cook assured me it would stay hot for awhile." she said, lifting the silver lid off of the platter, "But if it is cold I can have someone heat it up for you."

Helen smiled, trying to absorb the fact that they now had a cook and people who would heat up their food if need be. After years of caring for her family, she was happy that she would have a break from such mundane tasks, though she could not help but wonder what her role would be in this (extremely large) household if her regular chores were now done by the royal staff.

It would not be easy to go from doing everything to doing nothing, she mused.

"I am sure it is just fine." She said as Lucy placed the breakfast tray on her lap. Judging from the steam rising off of the eggs, warming the food would not be an issue. The meal looked and smelled fantastic (she realized as she looked down at it that she was absolutely starving), and she gratefully began to dig in.

Much to her pleasure, it tasted as good as it looked and smelled.

"This is fantastic!" She exclaimed between bites. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the bacon was expertly prepared, and the apple slices were wonderfully flavourful. After years of dreary war rations, this simple meal was a culinary delight.

"Good," Lucy replied, sitting back down in the chair beside Helen's bed. "Cair Paravel's kitchen staff is excellent. I am glad you are enjoying it."

"I am," Helen assured her. "I have a feeling that I am going to be terribly spoiled here."

Lucy grinned. "Oh, you will be, trust me. You are the royal mother and you _will _be pampered from now on."

She paused, watching her mother thoughtfully as the older woman continued her breakfast.

After nearly a minute of silence, she spoke.

"I have been thinking." Lucy began, her eyes still fixed on Helen. "About what Aslan said yesterday."

Helen placed her last piece of half-eaten toast back on the tray and turned her attention to her daughter. The food may have been good, but some things were more important then sensory delights.

Truth be told, she had not dwelled on the Lion's words too long after he had left. The relief of not having to leave her children had overcome her, and the festivities had drawn her in- nearly everything else had been pushed from her mind. The warmth and contentment she had felt when the Lion had spoken to her had not gone away, but the music, dance and conversation of the previous evening had been a distraction from more weighty matters.

Having little to say on the issue (yet, at least), she nodded for Lucy to continue. The girl seemed to have a close relationship with the Lion, and Helen was curious to get her take on the conversation.

"He said that you were the reason we had to return to our world for a bit." She said slowly, her expression thoughtful.

Her mind recalling the Lion's words with sudden clarity, Helen cut in. "He said he _suspected_ that I _might_ be the reason," She corrected. "Not that I was."

To her surprise, Lucy's face broke out into a wide grin.

"Aslan is all-knowing," She said, still smiling. "He was there when Narnia was created, and he will be here until the very end. There is nothing he does not know, and when his words seem unsure, it is purely for our benefit- it means that he wants us to reach our on conclusions, even though he has known the right answer all along."

Helen hesitated for a moment, increasingly confused by the nature of this strange being.

"If he knows everything, then why wasn't he more clear?" She asked, placing the breakfast tray on her bedside table and turning to face Lucy more directly. "Why not just say that you were sent back to England to retrieve me, and state why this was necessary? That would be a much simpler approach…" She trailed off, noticing that Lucy's conviction did not appear to be wavering.

Again, Lucy smiled. "Yes, but if he did that then he would not leave us much to think about. We would never look within in ourselves, or ever truly understand, if everything was made so simple." She stated. "Being a follower of Aslan does not require giving up ones free-thought. He wants us to think for ourselves and that is why, sometimes, he prefers to simply suggest an idea rather then give us a straight answer."

The older woman nodded slowly, surprised by the wisdom of her young daughter. It was still a confusing notion, but she could see the point Lucy was trying to make. Perhaps the Lion was even more astute then she initially thought.

"Alright then," She said. "What have you been thinking about? Have you managed to decipher his words?"

"Well, not completely." Lucy admitted. "But I have been contemplating them, and thinking about the way things were just before we left Narnia." She paused. "Things were generally good- Peter had defeated the giants, Susan, Edmund and I had subdued one of our enemies and cemented our alliance with another kingdom. Our citizens were content, and it did not appear that any battles or disputes were about to erupt (though one can rarely predict such things)."

Helen gave her a small smile, impressed (though she knew few of the details) by her children's capacity to protect and care for their kingdom.

"But then again," the young woman continued, a hint of sadness creeping into her tone. "Despite all of our successes, I am not sure if we were entirely content. No one, aside from the four of us and our closest friends, would have detected it, but there was a sense (looking back), that something was missing during our final years here. We had each other, of course, and dear companions like Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers, but there was still an emptiness that all of us felt. We discussed it sometimes, though it was a topic we liked to avoid." Lucy looked thoughtful again. "It was the worst for Peter." She said quietly. "It always was."

She stopped her musings for a moment, leaving Helen to contemplate what she had said. What had caused this void, she wondered, glancing up at Lucy for a brief moment. Surely she couldn't be talking about _her_; it filled her with such warmth to think that they had missed her deeply while they had been away, though she could not push the coldness of the last several weeks from her mind. Granted, she now knew that their moods back in Finchley had been brought on by their departure from this place (and not, thankfully, any doing of hers), but she would have expected a warmer reception, despite it all, if their separation from her was what had drawn them out of this world in the first place.

She didn't dare hope…

"What do you mean, exactly?" She asked hesitantly, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. "Why weren't you content?"

"Honestly," Lucy began again after another pause. "I don't think any of us were quite sure why we felt that way at the time."

Helen's heart sunk at her words, but she tried to keep her face stoic.

_Don't be upset,_ she told herself, _they were away for years, they didn't need you after such a long separation. _

_They grew up without you._

_They could have carried on just fine…_

"But, after thinking over what Aslan said, I think that, well-" Lucy stopped for a moment and looked up at her mother with a smile. "I think that it was you all along. I think we needed you here, even if we didn't necessarily know it."

The woman's head snapped up, and she met her daughter's eyes. She could feel a smile tugging at the side of her mouth and, this time, she was unable to hold back her emotion.

"Oh Lucy…" Helen breathed, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the lump building in her throat. Despite her sudden happiness, she could not help but voice her concerns. "You had grown up without me, though. Been on your own for fifteen years." Helen pointed out. "Why would you suddenly need me right then? You had been getting on just fine…"

"We weren't fine." Lucy cut in, interrupting before she could finish. "Like I said, we all felt this…indescribable void, and it had begun to grow. When we first came here we missed you and dad terribly, of course. But, I will admit, things did get easier after a bit. We never forgot you, though we did forget many things about England, and it always pained us to speak of you- but it was easier then the first little while had been." She paused and glanced out of the large eastern window for a moment, deep in thought. "In the months before we left, it was getting harder again. I cannot quite tell you why, but I also cannot deny how we felt. There was this painful yearning and, like I said, we couldn't necessarily identify what we missed, but we all knew it was important. Looking back, I should have realized that the feeling was familiar. It was the same way we all felt during our early years here. When we needed you most."

"I…" Helen began, trailing off. She was speechless as Lucy's words rang in her ears. She wanted to believe, so badly, that her children truly needed her. It was, however, still a hard notion to accept. They had pushed her away at home and here they were so regal and mature.

What role could she possibly offer them now that they were grown Kings and Queen's of a mystical land?

There was yet another long pause, and Helen did not know how to continue. She feared that she would become too emotional if she tried.

It felt like ages before Lucy spoke again.

"Aslan must have known what we needed, even if we didn't know it ourselves." She said, her voice full of conviction. "And I have also been thinking that…" She hesitated. "That maybe he knew we would get what we needed if we went after the White Stag."

The last comment was muttered more to herself then to Helen, and the mother's brow furrowed in confusion.

"The White Stag?" She asked.

She had never heard of such a creature before and wondered what it was.

"The day we left," Lucy began again "We were hunting the White Stag which, most believe, is a creature that will grant wishes to anyone that catches it."

"Did you?" Helen pressed. "Catch it, I mean."

The girl hesitated, glancing out the large window for another moment, deep in thought. "No." She said, quieter then before. "Or at least, I didn't used to think so. We had been chasing it, but stopped for a moment when we came across an area that seemed familiar. I felt myself being drawn towards something, and next thing we knew we had stumbled back through the wardrobe and become children again."

Helen was not sure what Lucy was getting at, but her daughter continued before she could ask for further clarification.

"There are many legends about the White Stag and, like I said, most think it grants wishes to those that can catch it. But now, looking back on everything that has happened, I wonder if the legends might be mistaken. Maybe you don't have to catch it to get your wish; maybe the mere pursuit of it is enough to give you what you desire."

"You mean you think that the stag granted your wish, even though you didn't actually capture it?" Helen asked.

Lucy nodded. "Exactly. We never would have gone back to England if we hadn't decided to hunt it."

"But I thought you did not want to return? How could that have been your wish?

"It wasn't." She paused. "But_ you_ were…even if we didn't quite know it."

Realization dawned on Helen's face, and she was filled with a sudden warmth. But still, there were doubts. "How can you be sure?"

"I can't." Lucy conceded. "It is just a theory really, but it makes so much sense. Aslan knew that you were needed here, to drive away the sadness we all felt and keep us strong, so he sent us on the hunt (not directly of course, but I suspect he filled us with the desire to pursue the stag). Our wish was, unknowingly, fulfilled, and we returned with you as soon as Aslan saw fit." She paused, a youthful gleam flickering in her eyes. "It's all so wonderful, isn't it?" She asked.

Despite herself, Helen smiled. Maybe Lucy was right, she mused. Maybe they had, and did, need her…and maybe Aslan had arranged for her arrival.

It all seemed so mystical…so confusing…and yet she could, somehow, see the coherence of it all.

"It is wonderful." Helen said softly.

She gestured for Lucy to come towards her, and the girl quickly joined her on the edge of the large bed. Drawing her daughter into her arms she placed a gentle kiss atop her head and held her close, relishing in the happiness of this simple moment.

"I am glad you're here, mum." Lucy said, her eyes closed and her face serene. "We all are."

Helen smiled.

"I am glad too." She agreed.

---

Lucy had stayed in her room for a long while, chatting and answering many of the questions Helen still had. When she had reluctantly excused herself (explaining that there was a meeting she had to attend that afternoon), she assured her that Susan would be by soon to help pick out some clothes for her that afternoon, and that she would see all of them at dinner that evening.

Sure enough, Susan arrived soon after the younger woman had left, accompanied by several servants and a massive collection of elegant dresses. After setting down their loads, the servants had departed, leaving Helen alone with her eldest daughter for the first time since her arrival.

"This one is lovely, and it looks like it is the perfect size." Susan said, holding up an emerald green dress for Helen to see.

Although the older woman could not disagree with this statement (it was, indeed, a lovely dress), she wondered if she would ever feel comfortable in such strange attire. She had seen outfits like these before, in the illustrations of fairy tales, history books and ancient legends, but she had never imagined actually trying anything like that on. Such fashions had long ago become outdated in England; but in Narnia, it seemed, long flowing medieval-style dresses were seen as proper attire for women.

She would have been much more comfortable in a plain tweed skirt and simple jumper (her usual daily attire), but she realized that she had arrived with only the clothes on her back and would have to wear something else during her time here…no matter how strange it may have looked.

"It's nice." She said, taking the dress from Susan's arms, noting the softness of the elegant fabric.

Her daughters, it seemed, were quite used to this sort of thing and both looked graceful in similar dresses. She wondered if she had the same poise necessary to wear such garments, and she knew there was only one way to find out.

"You can try it on over there, mum." Susan said, gesturing to the changing screen across the room. "Let me know if you need any help tying it up.

Wordlessly, the woman made her way to the screen and tore off her simple white nightgown. Pulling on the green dress, she was happy to find that it was much more comfortable then it looked (corsets, she remembered, were a later innovation and not required with dresses such as these…thankfully). The fabric was smooth against her skin and, as Susan had predicted, it fit quite well.

"How is it?" Susan asked.

Coming out from behind the screen, Helen smiled and noticed a similar grin forming on her daughter's face.

"Oh, it looks fantastic!" Susan exclaimed, rushing towards her to help her do up the lacing on the back.

There was a pause as the girl set about her task. After tying the final string, she spoke again.

"Lucy and I always wanted to bring you back some of these dresses." She said wistfully. "We thought they'd suit you quite well, and when we first came here we discussed getting some to take home after the battle."

Helen figured that she was referring to the battle against the White Witch, the one she and Lucy had mentioned yesterday.

She was happy to know that her girls, despite all of the excitement, had taken a moment to think of her during their first adventure here.

"But then we realised that we wouldn't be leaving. And, well…" Susan continued, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I'm happy you're here now at least, and you do look lovely."

With that, Susan guided her towards the mirror so that she could see for herself, and Helen's eyes widened at the sight. She had always thought herself to be a plain woman (despite her husband's assurances that he found her beautiful); not stunning, but not displeasing either. Standing in this strange gown, however, in the middle of a large and elegant room, she was taken aback by her own appearance, for the first time in a very long while.

Susan was right, as she often seemed to be, this attire did (quite unexpectedly) suit her very well.

"I like it." she said honestly, turning to face her daughter. "And it is unbelievably comfortable as well."

Susan nodded. "Narnian clothing is always comfortable. Never scratchy or stiff like formal clothes in England." She paused. "For the most part anyway. Peter and Edmund claim that their armour is not particularly comfortable, though I suppose that is a bit different."

At the mention of her sons' names, Helen was reminded of a question she had been meaning to ask.

"Where are the boys today?" She enquired, walking away from the mirror and taking a seat on one of the soft chairs near the fireplace. She had slept well, but her legs were still sore from the previous day and the chair was too tempting to resist.

With a quiet sigh, Susan joined her.

"Meetings." She said, pushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "That is not an unusual occurrence around here, and I imagine things will be particularly busy after our absence and the news that…" She trailed off, her expression darkening for a moment.

Helen wondered what this news was she had spoken off (it certainly seemed to trouble Susan), but her daughter spoke again before she could question her.

"Well, never mind that." she muttered dismissively, "There are always matters of state to deal with, even in times of peace, and Peter and Ed are always heavily involved in things. Lucy is too, more and more recently (despite Peter's protests), and I try to help." She paused. "But truth be told, battle strategy and legal matters are not my forte. Not that I ignore such things, but I know where my strengths and weaknesses lie. I don't mind diplomatic missions, but aside from that I am the one who focuses most on the running of Cair Paravel."

The mother nodded.

She had gathered that this was the case, and it certainly seemed fitting when one considered their personalities. She could not picture Susan wading through heavy law tomes or plotting meticulous battle strategies; it simply wasn't her nature. Providing for her people and ensuring that all guests to the castle were well looked after seemed much more fitting and, if her treatment of Helen that afternoon was any indication, she was certainly good at her job.

"I also consider it my job to make sure the others don't work themselves to death." Susan continued. "I sometimes wonder if Peter would sleep at all if I didn't force him to retire to his room most nights."

Helen frowned at this, not pleased to think that her little boy (or rather, not-so-little boy) was under such strain. It made sense, she realized, considering the importance of Peter's role here, though she still did not like the idea.

"Ed isn't much better." The young woman stated. "It is not uncommon to find him in the library late at night, leafing through an old book and making notes about various things. I find him easier to deal with though, because I at least have seniority on my side when I insist that he get some rest. Peter, on the other hand, can be much harder to convince."

The mother made a mental note to keep an eye out for such behaviour. Perhaps there was something she could do to help. Her children would be of no use to anyone of they worked themselves to the bone; even kings and queens needed a balance.

"Do you ever find time for recreation?" She asked, wondering if their work ethic had quashed all sense of fun. "You do make time for friends, and for doing things you enjoy, don't you?" She paused, another thought occurring to her. "And what about relationships? Have you had time for that?"

It was a bit odd to think about her children, who had been so young until yesterday, having significant others, but she reminded herself that it was not unlikely at their Narnian ages.

Susan gave her a small smile. "Don't worry, mum. It isn't so horrible. We still have fun, sometimes. We all enjoy riding trips, the boys often practice their swordsmanship together, and Lucy and I have been known to spend an afternoon by the water. Even simple things, like a good conversation at dinner or a few quiet moments together in the morning, keep us sane and allow us to be ourselves." She paused. "We do have friends, of course, and spending time with all of them is always a joy. As for relationships…"

She trailed off, and Helen noticed a look of discomfort on her face. She was not sure if this was due to her reluctance to discuss such things with her mother, or if she was thinking back to a particularly bad experience.

"I suppose the simple answer is that none of us have settled down as of yet." Susan stated, still looking mildly unhappy. "Peter was quite taken with a lady who visited several months before we left; I know they had been corresponding a bit, though with Peter being so busy and our sudden absence, I doubt anything will come of it. Most young women in the realm would be happy to be his wife," she mused. "But I know Peter often questions their motives. I do too, frankly. It is hard to tell who is simply attracted to his title and who is genuine. It is a problem we all face."

Helen nodded, once again saddened by this revelation. She had not yet had time to consider all of the complications which came with being royalty, and this seemed to be a rather unfortunate one.

"What about you?" She asked, curious. Susan was an undeniably stunning woman, and Helen (though she knew she was biased) suspected she must have had many suitors as well.

The young woman frowned, and averted her gaze to the fireplace for a moment.

Clearly, this was a sore topic.

Helen was beginning to wonder if she would tell her anything at all, when Susan finally began to speak.

"About a year before we left." She started quietly, "A prince from another kingdom arrived to court me. I was quite taken, at first. He was very charming, a wonderful dancer, and he always seemed to know exactly what to say. Ed hated him and Peter was wary, but I dismissed their concerns and told them they were being too overprotective of me. I agreed to visit Prince Rabadash (that was his name) at his own castle, and was convinced that he was the one for me. Ed and Lucy came along, but soon after our arrival things began to fall apart. He was so much different in his own home, a completely different person…" Her frown deepened as she spoke. "He had no respect for women, kept several slaves, and showed himself to be a generally horrid person. I felt like such an idiot then, and wanted nothing more then to return home, but by then he was set on marrying his "barbarian Queen," and escape was not easy."

Helen's eyes widened as Susan recounted the tale. She hated the thought of her gentle young daughter having such a terrible experience, and she hoped that the man had been put in his place.

"He called you a barbarian?" She asked, flabbergasted.

Susan nodded. "He considered all Narnians barbarians." She confirmed. "In Calormen, that is where he is from, they have a very different sort of society then we do here. They consider our talking animals, our freedoms, our respect for women…our entire culture…barbaric. Such things are beyond their comprehension." She finished with a note of bitterness.

This did not, Helen mused, sound like the sort of place she would want to visit and she was very glad that her children had (apparently) managed to escape.

It was clear, to her, who the real barbarians were.

"We managed to get to our ship." Susan carried on with the story. "And got away quickly. But Rabadash is not the sort of man who gives up easily, and he sent his army towards Archenland, a dear ally of ours. His eventual plan, I believe, was to take Narnia. Thankfully, his armies were defeated, and Rabadash himself was, well…" She paused, and Helen was happy to see a grin overtaking her frown. "He was turned into an ass by Aslan and told that he would only become a man again if he went to, and stayed in, his own country."

Helen could not hold back a laugh as she listened to the end of the story. Susan soon joined in, and the two were overtaken by their mirth for several moments.

It was nice to be able to unwind in such a way.

Both needed this release.

"Well, that is quite the story, darling." Helen noted, regaining her breath. "I am glad the ending was, at least, happy."

To her surprise, Susan's smile disappeared again. "Yes, we'll see if it is truly the ending, though." She muttered, her tone much more subdued then before.

The mother was tempted to question her daughter, but her desire to see the young woman happy once again made her decide not to push the issue. She would find out what that meant, in time, if it was something that she needed to know.

"What of the others, then?" She asked, curious to hear as much as she could about her children's lives during their time here. "Edmund and Lucy?"

Susan relaxed once again, and continued. "Ed has had no more luck then Peter." She explained. "There have been a few women, every now and again, who seem like they might be right, but something is always off. Plus Ed is convinced that ladies only show an interest in him once they loose hope of winning Peter. I have told him a million times that this is not the case, and that he is just as handsome and desirable as Pete but, because he is Ed, he always refuses to believe it." She rolled her eyes and she leaned further back into her chair. "He prefers to bury himself in his books and ignore the matter."

Helen could sense the frustration in Susan's voice as she spoke. "As for Lu, Peter has only just stopped being ridiculously protective of her. He still has a bit of a tendency to scare off potential suitors though, something which I have tried (unsuccessfully) to stop. He'll have to get used to the idea eventually, though he refuses to listen to reason on this issue."

The mother shook hear head, amused by this new information. She was beginning to get a glimpse of how the siblings interacted here and, although she had not been around to watch them grow, it seemed that they had developed in a way that she could have predicted.

Peter, always protective and never taking time for himself.

Edmund, protective in his own way, and never able to quash his self doubt.

Lucy, the most carefree and sheltered of them all.

And Susan, always wanting to see the good in people, and trying her hardest to care for those around her.

_Yes,_ she thought, _despite it all, they were still the children she had always known and loved._

"Maybe you'll have more luck then I have." Susan commented, looking thoughtful. "I have always tried my best to give everyone advice, but I don't have much authority. Peter is older then me, Ed rarely listens anyway, and Lucy isn't much better. I can only do so much."

Helen gave the young woman a small smile. "And you think I have more authority here?" She asked, her disbelief evident in her tone. "You are all Kings and Queens, and I am a housewife from Finchley. I think that I am terribly outranked."

After short pause, Susan laughed again; Helen was happy to see her glee return.

"But you're our _mum_." She pointed out. "And this is not political power we are talking about. We may be kings and queens, but we still need someone to tell us when we need to take a break, or when we are being too hard on ourselves. We still need someone to be there for us, and to love us unconditionally, no matter what. We have gone without such things for far too long."

Helen caught her daughter's eye, and the two shared a warm smile.

"We need you here, mum." Susan said, her voice full of love and conviction.

"We always have."

XXXXXXXXX

A/N That is all for now. My original intent was to incorporate scenes with all four children into this chapter, but it was getting too long. Next up, "A Mother's Sons"- if you want it.

Thank you for the reviews! I love reading what you think and am eager to see your thoughts on this.

There will be some action eventually (though I would not call this an action/adventure story). Things are brewing, though Helen will not be witnessing the very gritty action bits (…or will she?) Mainly an emotional story though; a mother rediscovering her children.

Some responses:

Lucy the Valiant- As far as height goes, in my mind, Helen is about 5'4, Lucy is similar, Susan is maybe 5'6, Edmund is around 6 feet, and Peter is about 6'2. I picture their father being fairly tall, and don't see it as too unrealistic. I picture Lucy as small, but movie-Ed grew so much that I can't help but picture him as rather tall, eventually. There will be more action, though I am not sure how much battle type stuff Helen will witness, sorry to disappoint!

RixxiSpooks- I love Peter and Edmund moments (as I love Peter and Edmund)- there should be more to come! I love the films too, especially William and Skandar as Peter and Edmund- they are perfect, in my view, and always in my mind when I write.

DarkPhoenix101- In my head, and I realize that I may not have been too clear (though I hope this chapter helped), Aslan does know everything, but he doesn't reveal it all. He knew when and why they would leave, when they would come back, and knows when they will leave again (though he will not tell them, because it would effect they way they live their lives…if he said they have 10 days or 5 years (etc.) it would change their approach to things, and he does not want that). Hope that makes some sense, and thank you for the comments- please keep me on my toes. I find Aslan hard to write, and had a lot of difficulty with that scene.

Anime Princess- Yes, I suppose Susan was close to Aslan at that point, but I didn't want too much dialogue in that scene so didn't have her address him. Doesn't mean she wasn't comfortable though :) Thanks again for reviewing!

Lirenel – thanks for pointing that out. In my head, he did know everything, but didn't want to reveal it. I realize I wasn't too clear, and hope this chapter helped. Thank you again, constructive criticism is great. I was reluctant to write Aslan, and struggled with that bit.


	5. A Mother's Sons

Helen and Susan spent much of the afternoon together, walking through the large palace gardens and taking a tour of the castle. Helen had been very impressed by the beauty of Cair Paravel, and quickly realized that what she had seen last night was only the beginning of its delights. The gardens were spectacular, filled with plants of every colour and description imaginable, and each room of the Cair seemed more elegant then the last.

Even more important then the physical appearance of it all, however, was the general atmosphere. All who resided there, from the smallest mouse to the largest bear, seemed content and happy. Everyone they had come across that day had greeted them with genuine friendliness, and Helen was pleased that the citizens of this strange land all seemed to have respect and admiration for her children. She still did not know everything there was to know about their first fifteen years here, but she was increasingly convinced that their reign must have been (for the most part) peaceful and prosperous.

They had certainly done her proud.

As the sun began to set over the eastern sea, the women made their way back to the great hall for dinner. This was to be Helen's first meal with the rest of the court, and she was eager to finally see her sons who had (according to Susan) been wrapped up in various meetings all day. Upon entering the hall, however, she was disappointed to see Lucy and Tumnus alone at the high table, and her hopes were dashed when her youngest daughter informed her that the boys would not make it to dinner.

Susan did not seem surprised by this report, but she gave her mother a sympathetic glance.

"Sorry Mum." She had said, taking her seat at the long marble table. "Unfortunately this does happen sometimes."

Helen had tried to brush off her disappointment (she was, of course, very happy to enjoy the meal with her girls and did not want them to think otherwise), but she found it difficult to mask her concern. She could not help but remember her earlier conversation with Susan, and she did not like picturing Peter and Edmund working well into the night without even a break for dinner.

Kings or not, they needed to look after themselves.

The meal was lovely, but Helen's attention was not on the expertly prepared food. She kept glancing anxiously around the room and, every time the main door opened, she could not stop her head from snapping up to see if it was one of her sons. Much to her displeasure, as the tea and cakes were carted away (signalling the end of the dinner hour), they still had not appeared.

The girls must have noticed her distracted state, for when the dinner was over Lucy leaned over to tell her that she might have some luck locating Ed in the library.

"He goes there right after meetings, sometimes." She had said with a small smile.

Thankful that the library was easy to locate, and remembering it from her tour that afternoon, Helen soon excused herself and made her way though the great hall, once again trying (and failing) to ignore the whispers and eyes that followed her as she went. She hoped the fascination she seemed to inspire in the court would soon fade; she had never been much of an attention seeker, and did not want to be a topic of discussion.

Respect and admiration were all well and good for her children, but she (in her own estimation) had done nothing deserving of such notice.

Much to her relief, when she finally reached the library and pushed open the large oak door she instantly spotted her youngest son crouched over a massive tome at one of the room's many elegantly carved desks.

He seemed to be the only one in the room and (as he was so wrapped up in his work) he did not look up when she entered. Filled with a sudden determination, Helen marched towards the young man, stopping a few feet in front of him and clearing her throat pointedly.

Edmund finally took notice.

"Mum!" he exclaimed, looking up from the book and placing down the quill he had been using to make notes. "What are you doing here?"

He seemed surprised to see her, and she took note of his dishevelled appearance. His silver crown was resting precariously on a large pile of books to his left, his dark hair was sticking out at odd angles (probably indicating that he had been nervously running his hands through it for the past while), and his blue cloak had been placed haphazardly on the back of his chair.

She knew in an instant that he had had a stressful day.

Edmund was always careless when there were other things on his mind.

"I came to see you." Helen said, pulling up a nearby chair and placing it on the other side of his desk. She had no intention of leaving until they had a good long chat.

Taking her seat, she continued. "Lucy said you might be here, and I have been worrying about you all day. You missed dinner, you know."

The young man sighed, rubbing his tired eyes for a moment before replying. "I know, I know. I suppose Su is annoyed about that. Again. There is just so much to do and…"

"Susan is concerned." The mother cut in. "And so am I. I realize that you must have a lot to worry about, Edmund, but that is no reason to neglect your basic needs." She paused and made her face as stern as possible before continuing. "How can you do your country any good if you forget to look after yourself? You'll waste away into nothing if you allow this sort of behaviour to continue. I cannot sit by and let that happen."

For a moment, his expression was difficult to read, and Helen worried that he would simply brush off her concerns. Getting Edmund to listen as a child had been hard enough (of all of her children, he had been the one who was told off the most for pestering his siblings)- here, having any say over his life might be near impossible. He was a grown man now, she realized as she averted her gaze down to the desk, not to mention a King; he did not technically have to listen to her or do as she asked.

As she glanced up at him again, however, she was pleased to see him looking sheepishly down at the ground. For the briefest of seconds, he looked ten years old again, and she felt as if she had just scolded him for pulling his sister's hair or tracking mud into the kitchen.

"I know, mum." He conceded with a defeated sigh. "I can't keep this up, and I promise I'll work on getting better."

She nodded, very satisfied by this response. Perhaps she hadn't lost her influence after all.

"But-"

He continued, and Helen frowned slightly, realizing that she had not quite won.

"Things are particularly hectic right now," Edmund pointed out. "And it will be extremely difficult to maintain anything resembling a regular schedule for the next few weeks. We have been away for quite some time, and so much work has piled up. Plus we've just got word that…" He hesitated. "Well, never mind that. Point is, there is a lot to do, and I may miss a few meals here and there. I'll do my best though. Really, I will."

A moment of silence passed between them.

Helen was somewhat placated by this answer, and she knew that she could not possibly begin to understand the sorts of duties he was expected to carry out. It was a lot of pressure, she supposed, and she knew that she would have to accept that her children had a very important (and demanding) role in this kingdom.

There would be stresses, she realized, and times of unrest.

It was a new reality that she knew she would have to deal with.

Though that didn't mean that she had to like it…

"Alright." She agreed, nodding. "I suppose I can live with that. I _will _be watching to make sure that you do try to make at least some time for yourself, though."

Edmund gave her a small smile. "I don't doubt it." He replied.

Placing a large hand on the side of the book he had been looking at when she entered, the young man sighed and snapped the tome shut with a crisp bang.

After a brief pause, he spoke again.

"I am happy you're here, actually." He confessed, looking somewhat sheepish again. "I should be researching but, truth be told, I have had quite enough for now. The council meetings were quite trying, as usual, and I think I deserve a bit of a break. If only for a little while. This book is rubbish anyway, and not terribly useful."

Helen glanced down at the book he was eager to distract himself from.

_A Brief History of Calormen_, it read, in elaborate gold script.

She could not hold back a scoff as she looked at the massive tome. "Brief" was certainly not the term she would use to describe it, and she wondered if the author had wanted to be ironic with his choice of title.

"That certainly does not look like fun." She noted, looking back up at her youngest son. He was leaning back in his chair now, his eyes closed and a look of blissful relief on his face.

It was a much more pleasing sight to the mother then the frazzled son she had happened upon a few minutes ago.

After observing him for a few moments, she spoke again. "Do you often have to read such things?" She asked, curious to know more about her son's role in the country's affairs.

Edmund gave her a small smile and opened his deep brown eyes. "Thankfully, not too often. I mean, I do come here at least once a day." He replied, glancing around the large library affectionately. "It is my favourite room in the castle. But my reading is usually much more fun. Legal histories of Narnia, assessments of Narnian legislation, case studies from Narnian courts, legal documents from the palace archives…that sort of thing. Like I said, much better then this." He gestured towards the large book as he finished, a look of mild contempt on his face.

Helen found it difficult to hold back a chuckle.

She could tell from his tone that he did, clearly, enjoy his regular reading, though she was amused to hear him describe legal histories and case studies as "fun." Most people, herself included, would find that sort of thing extremely dry. But Edmund, it seemed, saw absolutely no problem with it.

She wondered, as she watched him begin to organize his notes, when her little boy had become such a diligent scholar and legal enthusiast.

Over the past two days, she had made many observations about her now-grown children which seemed to fit. Lucy's love of life, Peter's protectiveness, Susan's compassion; all were predictable extensions of traits she had noticed in childhood.

But Edmund was different.

He had, it seemed, changed more then the others during his time here.

There was some continuity in his personality too, of course. She could still see his stubborn streak, his underlying uncertainty, his deep (if oddly expressed, at times) love for his family…but there were differences as well.

Things that she could not have predicted.

He still liked to joke (particularly with his brother), she had observed, but his banter was no longer mean-spirited, as it often had been when he was a child. She had been distressed, during the past few years in England, to catch her youngest son bullying and teasing his siblings on several occasions, and she had done all she could to correct such tendencies. His time here, it seemed, had done that job for her. All traces of that insecure child had faded away, and there was a seriousness in his demeanour that had not been present before…a strong sense of purpose and duty. This work ethic, too, was not something she had foreseen, nor could she have predicted this fascination with legal matters.

He wasn't called King Edmund the Just for nothing, she supposed.

Her son, apparently, noticed her daze and quickly snapped her out of it.

"Mum, are you okay?" He asked, leaning forward with a look of concern on her face. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head and smiled reassuringly. "No, nothing is wrong." She said. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" The young king asked, leaning back in his chair again. Despite his tousled hair and slightly wrinkled clothing, she noted (with much pride) for the umpteenth time since their arrival that he had grown into quite a fine young man. The gawky days of his youth were far behind him now and she could not understand why (as Susan had mentioned earlier) he thought himself to be inferior to Peter. The boys were different, to be sure, but equally wonderful in their mother's eyes.

"You." She answered with another warm smile.

He looked surprised, and perplexed, but did not respond. After a short moment of silence, Helen decided to elaborate.

"You've changed quite a bit, you know." The mother noted, her proud eyes locked on her youngest son. "Since you were a child. Which, I suppose, was technically yesterday…" She smirked and shook her head, bemused. "But you know what I mean. I noticed when we were back in England as well, and now I know that it wasn't your time in the country but your time in Narnia which was responsible."

Edmund said nothing for a long while, and Helen was confused to see a frown forming on his face. He glanced out a nearby window, his eyes distant and his mind a million miles way, and the mother could not push back her growing concern as she watched him trapped in his sudden daze. She had not meant to upset him, she thought worriedly, and she wondered what she had said to warrant such a reaction.

Helen waited until, finally, she could take the silence no longer.

"Edmund?" She asked quietly, her eyes still fixed on him. "Are you alright? What is it?"

The young man glanced back towards her with a tight smile; she could easily see through the façade.

"Of course I have changed." He replied, trying to keep his tone light-hearted. "I was a child yesterday, and now I am twenty-five again. And thank Aslan for that, being trapped in my ten year old body was far from fun. It is great to be tall again, and I was so tired of-"

"That is not what I was talking about." Helen interrupted. She could tell that he was trying to brush off her comment, and she was determined not to let that happen. His reaction had made her even more intrigued about the changes she had observed, and she knew that she had to find out more.

He was keeping something from her.

Something important.

"You do look different, of course." She continued. "But I was referring to more important things. I do not know why, but I feel like you have matured and changed, internally, even more then the others. I did not mean to upset you by pointing that out."

She held her breath, awaiting his response. For a moment, she thought he was going to shut down again, his eyes seemed to be getting distant once more. But, much to her relief, he soon spoke.

"Yes, well, we did go though a lot here." He said, looking down and fidgeting with the hilt of his sword.

It was not much of an elaboration, but at least it was something.

Although she was reluctant, fearing that she would upset him further, Helen pressed on, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"I can imagine." She began. "Susan and Lucy have told me a bit about your time here, though I suspect there is still much to know."

Edmund hesitated, leaning back in his chair with a soft sigh and running his hand through his hair. "What did they tell you about me?" He asked, finally looking up to meet her gaze. "About when we first got here?"

Helen thought back to the conversation she had had with Lucy and Susan during their trek up to Cair Paravel yesterday. She hadn't fully absorbed everything they had said, being too shocked and dazed to do so, but she did remember the gist of it and her eyes widened as a sudden thought hit her.

"They said you got lost." She replied slowly, straining to remember Lucy's exact words. "Soon after you all arrived for the first time, you got separated from the others." As the significance of this began to register, Helen paused and gently placed her hand on his arm. It was terrible to think of her little boy, alone and afraid, in this strange world so soon after his arrival. He must have been terrified, she thought as she looked at him sympathetically, it must have been awful…

To her surprise, Edmund jerked away from her touch.

"Don't." He said, with a sudden anger in his voice. "Don't give me your pity. I don't deserve it."

Helen was taken aback.

She could not explain or comprehend his sudden change in tone, though it was evident that this event had more significance then she had originally thought.

She had clearly struck a nerve.

"Edmund, I'm sorry, I don't unders-"

The young man stood up from his spot abruptly, sending his crown clattering onto the floor in his sudden haste. The sound of silver hitting marble echoed in the large room, providing a brief distraction from the suddenly tense conversation.

"Edmund," Helen decided to try again as she slowly rose from her seat to face her son. He had not yet moved from his spot, though she could see the flurry of emotion on his face, and sense his anger from his stiff shoulders and clenched knuckles.

He refused to look her in the eye.

"Edmund, please tell me why you are upset. I don't understand."

The young man continued to look away but, after a few laboured breaths, he replied.

"Maybe I don't want you to understand." He began.

His voice was quieter now, but there was still a note of pain and anger in it that she had never heard before. It was extremely unsettling to the concerned mother.

"Maybe I don't want you to know that your son is a traitor."

Helen froze, his final sentence running through her mind.

A traitor?

She wondered what he could possibly mean by this. From what she had observed and what she had been told during her short time here, that remark made little sense. Edmund was loved and respected by his people, just like her other three children, and he was as strong and secure in his position as the rest. He reigned alongside his siblings, supporting them as they supported him…she had seen nothing to indicate any sort of betrayal.

It could not be true.

Her head snapped up at the sound of his heavy footsteps. For a moment, she feared he was about to flee from the room, but instead he walked slowly over to a nearby window, his back turned to her and his shoulders tense.

She waited for several moments before speaking again, hoping that he would grow calmer and see it fit to explain. He could not say such a thing and simply leave it hanging in such a way; she needed to know what he meant.

"I still don't understand." Helen said softly, taking a few cautious steps towards her son. "What does that mean? Who do you think you betrayed? You got lost, Edmund, it wasn't your fault…"

The young man sighed, his broad shoulders slumping slightly as he did. "I didn't get lost." He explained, his voice calmer but forlorn. "I left. I left Peter, Susan and Lucy and I went to the White Witch. I chose her over my family…I betrayed Narnia, I betrayed Aslan, and I betrayed those who I loved the most."

Edmund paused, then turned abruptly, finally facing her again. The mother could instantly see the pain in her son's face, and she had to resist the urge to pull him into her arms and offer him words of support. He had made it clear that he did not want such comfort, no matter how badly she wanted to offer it.

Despite what he had said, when she looked at him now, standing in the dim light of the library with such heartbreaking sadness in his brown eyes, she did not see a traitor. She saw her little boy…distressed, anguished, and in need of her support.

"When…when I first came to Narnia." He began again, averting his gaze down to the stone floor. "She was the first person I met. She called herself the Queen of Narnia, and offered me food and drink, which I gladly accepted. I had no idea, then, that she was a usurper to the throne who had inflicted Narnia with one hundred years of winter, and I fell under her spell. She tempted me with power and fame, and I wanted it so terribly that I agreed to bring the others to her…"

Edmund trailed off. His voice had begun to shake as he spoke, and Helen could tell that (even after all these years), this was a painful tale for him to tell. A part of her felt that it would be best to tell him to stop, to not relive such painful memories. But she was so entrapped by the story that she could not bring herself to do it. He suddenly seemed willing to share, and she allowed him to continue.

"I was a petty fool." Edmund began again, with a solemn shake of his head. "I was such a jealous child, and the thought of power…of out-shining Peter, of not being second best for once in my life…was so incredibly appealing. When the four of us came back to Narnia together, I tried to think up a way to bring them to the White Witch with me, though I soon realized they would not come. So I went alone- snuck off when they weren't looking, and told her where they could be found."

Helen felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach as he spoke. She knew, of course, that things must have worked out in the end, but the thought of such a scenario still filled her with a terrible sinking feeling. Though she still could not see this noble and intelligent man before her as a true traitor, she was beginning to understand what had led him towards these mistakes, and a sense of guilt was growing inside of her.

She had always known about the rivalry between her two sons though, she now realized, she did not know how deep it had been. Edmund had admired and followed Peter since had had been old enough to walk, and was always frustrated when he could not keep up with the older boy. Over the years, his frustrations had often come out as anger and, although she had told all of her children on several occasions that they were all equally important, Edmund had never seemed to take her words seriously.

Clearly, she had failed to recognize his deep resentment, and correct his misguided self image. He had never been second best in her eyes, and it pained her to think that he had believed otherwise.

Edmund spoke again, snapping the distressed mother away from her thoughts.

"That was when I realized what I had done." He said, finally looking up from the stone floor. "She sent her guards after the others, and locked me in her dungeon. I was cold, and alone, and sickened by what I had done. She had never intended to give me power or privilege; she simply wanted all four of us in her possession, to prevent the prophecy from coming true. I came so close to death, and sometimes…" He paused, hesitating before completing his thought. "Sometimes I wish that had been the end. At least then, I wouldn't have had to witness what was to come next."

Helen brought her hand to her chest, appalled by such a horrible thought. She could not stand the idea of her little boy being so pained and tortured that he saw death as a relief.

He had been so young…much too young to have such a dreadful experience.

If only she could have been there to protect him…

Leaning against the window ledge, his face pained and his eyes miles away, Edmund continued.

"She came down to the dungeons, and decided to take me with her on a ride through the country- to make me witness the results of my betrayal." He began. "I watched as she tortured…as she killed…and I felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do and, as much as it pained me to admit it, I knew that I had contributed to such terror. I began to loose all hope; I had no idea if the others were okay, or even alive, and I was completely helpless, a victim of my own greed and foolishness. But then, they came." He paused, and she could see his deep sadness began to lift. "Aslan sent some of his men to rescue me. I don't remember much, I think I passed out soon after they arrived, but when I awoke I was safely back in Aslan's camp, and the Great Lion Himself was standing next to me. I'm not sure how, but I instantly knew who he was, and could only weep in his presence. I felt so ashamed, so unworthy, but he assumed me that all would soon be well."

The mother gave a small smile as the horrible tale took a more positive turn. It was a relief to know that the Lion had been looking out for her son, even in his darkest hour, and she was glad to know that his suffering had been brought to an end.

"We spoke for a long time, that day." Edmund recalled. "It is a conversation I will never forget. I did not deserve it, but he offered me his forgiveness, and told me I still had a great destiny to fulfil, as a King of Narnia alongside the others."

He paused again, fidgeting with the hilt of his sword once more. "I believed him, I suppose. Though I had my doubts…I still do, really. I recognized my mistakes, and know I would never disrespect those I love in such a way again, but I can never forget what I did, or completely ignore the part of me that is capable of such terrible selfishness. If it hadn't been for Aslan, my betrayal would have inflicted more suffering on Narnia…" He hesitated. "And led to my death."

Helen let out a small gasp and took another step towards her son. She examined the grave expression on his face, trying to make sense of his words.

Such a notion was too terrible for any mother to contemplate.

"Oh Edmund…" She breathed, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

This time, he did not pull away.

"Aslan scarified himself for me, you know." He stated, looking up to meet her gaze for the first time in several minutes. "After my rescue, the Witch demanded that I be given back to her, but Aslan offered himself in my place. I had no idea at the time, but He left the camp that night and allowed Himself to be slaughtered in my stead. Susan and Lucy witnessed it, and thought He was gone, but the witch was unaware that the nature of His sacrifice would allow Him to rise again. I have offered him my thanks for that, every single day, but I know that nothing I do or say will ever be enough to repay such a deed. I owe him everything. He sacrificed himself for a foolish boy, for a traitor, who did not deserve his mercy. It took me a long time to come to terms with what had happened, and I still find myself unable to fully accept it."

Edmund fell silent, finally done his long and painful story, and slumped against the stone cold wall. Tired, worn, and consumed by his memories.

For several moments, Helen could do nothing but stand beside him, her hand still on his arm as she tried to absorb all of what she had been told. Lucy and Susan had mentioned Aslan's death and rebirth, though they had failed to tell her that Edmund had been the reason for such a sacrifice. It was amazing to think that the magnificent creature, whose wisdom and power she had sensed during her brief encounter with him, had given up so much for her son. She could understand why Edmund felt such guilt but, in her view, this failed to encapsulate the full significance of it.

Aslan would not have done such a thing unless Edmund had been worthy, she realized, and there was no doubt in her mind that (despite his mistakes) the Great Lion had foreseen the great man he would become. In her short time here, she had already noticed so many positive changes in her little boy. He was an intelligent and wise King, and (perhaps more importantly) a devoted and caring brother and son. She was convinced that he was deserving of such a rescue, even if he did not believe it himself.

"Edmund, you were only a child." She said quietly, moving her hand from his arm to his cheek, and forcing him to turn towards her. He did not resist and his deep brown eyes met hers. "You made a mistake, as we all do at some point in our lives. Perhaps yours had more consequences then most, but Aslan clearly recognized that you should not be condemned for such a folly. He must have known about the great things you would grow up to achieve, and he must have known the great man you would become. You were not unworthy, Edmund, you deserved a second chance."

Edmund gave her a small smile. "I may have been young." He agreed. "But I do not see that as an adequate excuse. I should not have let my jealousy get the better of me, and I never should have betrayed the others. It is a shame I will always have to live with. I am no great man."

His last sentence was quiet, barely audible, but full of such heart wrenching doubt and pain that the mother could hardly fight back her tears. She found it hard to believe that he still could not see what so many others clearly did…what she did.

He had come so far, he was admired by many- and yet he seemed blind to the praise he very much deserved.

"You may not be able to forget what happened." Helen agreed, her voice soft and tender as she stared up at her son. "But that should not stop you from recognizing your achievements. From what I have observed, and what I have heard from others, your fifteen years here were successful and prosperous. I know you played a large part in that, and I could see the love and respect that your people have for you when they cheered for your return last night. It pains me to see you doubt yourself in such a way, Edmund. I am so proud of you, and I only wish that you could be proud of yourself as well."

There was a long silence after she finished.

Edmund, it seemed, was searching for a response, but the opening and closing of his mouth indicated that he had none. After a moment, he decided to end his struggle for words, and simply nodded and gave her the faintest of smiles.

Satisfied, for the time being, and hoping that her words would truly sink in, she brushed a stray piece of dark hair of his eyes and smiled at the wonderful young man she was proud to call her son.

He had changed in many ways, and she now knew part of the painful reason behind his reform but, no matter what happened, she knew that he would always be her little boy.

Unable to resist any longer, she drew him into a gentle hug.

"I love you, Edmund." She whispered, her emotions finally getting the better of her. "Don't you ever forget that."

She could feel him smile into her shoulder.

"Thanks, Mum." He muttered. "I won't."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After her long talk with Edmund, Helen had insisted that her youngest son make his way to the kitchens and have the cooks prepare him a small meal. She had meant what she had said; she would not allow her children to neglect themselves on her watch, and making sure they had enough food and rest was her utmost priority. They may have been adults now, but they (clearly) still needed someone to keep them on track. In an odd sort of way, it made her happy to think that she was not completely irrelevant and unnecessary here.

Her three youngest, she thought with satisfaction, were now adequately looked after for the day and her thoughts now turned to her one remaining challenge.

The sun had long ago set in the sky and, after leaving Edmund, Helen had wandered through the castle aimlessly, trying to seek out her eldest son. She had been growing increasingly frustrated, and had been just about ready to give up for the evening (though she vowed to herself that he would _really_ hear it when she finally did locate him the next day) when a centaur had given her the tip she needed.

She had nearly run into the impressive looking creature as she rounded a corner and, after introducing himself as Oreius and telling her that it was a pleasure to make her acquaintance (she had blushed when he had said that it was "A true honour to finally meet the woman who had done such a wonderful job raising the young sovereigns."), he had told her that Peter was nearby in a meeting room down the hall.

She had thanked him before anxiously following his directions and approaching the room he had indicated. Drawing a deep breath and straightening her back in an attempt to look a bit more imposing, she had pushed open the wooden door and entered the chamber, ready to give her son a good scolding.

Many, she had observed, were in awe of the High King, and Helen suspected that he was no longer used to having people question his actions. To her, however, he was still just Peter, and she was determined not to let him forget it.

Much to her disappointment, as the door swung open it revealed that Peter was not alone. There were three others in the room; a young faun, a large raven, and a frazzled looking dwarf. They all looked up her, surprised by her abrupt entrance.

Her confidence and determination quickly faded in front of this larger then anticipated audience, though she was slightly amused by the wide-eyed look of fear which flashed across her son's face. He knew that she was not pleased.

"Mum!" He exclaimed, standing up from his spot. "I didn't expect to see you here. Is something the matter? Did one of the others send you?"

She folded her arms across her chest, still making some attempt to appear stern. "No one sent me." She said, her tone indicating her slight annoyance. "And nothing is the matter…unless, of course, you count the fact that I have been worrying about my son all day and was quite distressed when he failed to show up for dinner."

The young man shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the long wooden table where he and his councillors had been sitting. "Yes, well, err…" He trailed off and looked up at her sheepishly. "Sorry." He muttered, looking more like a child then a High King for a brief moment.

Resisting the temptation to push him further (he was with his subjects, she realized, and she did not want to scold him too terribly in their presence), she gave him a curt nod. "I was hoping to speak with you. When you are done here, perhaps." She replied.

He nodded back. "Of course. We're just about done, you're welcome to wait in here, if you want, it should only be another minute or so."

Wordlessly, Helen sat down in the nearest chair, watching her son as he returned to his spot and began to tie up his business for the evening. Though she would have preferred to find him alone, she had to admit that she was interested to see him in action, dealing with state business and carrying out his duties.

After chancing another nervous glance at her (she smirked internally at this), he turned his attention back to the others, collecting himself once again.

"Right, as I was saying Sallowpad." Peter began, the authority she had witnessed in him last night returning as he spoke, "If you can speak to the diplomats first thing tomorrow, that would be good. We should send the mission out as fast as possible."

The raven had had been addressing nodded. "Of course, it would be my honour, Your Majesty." He replied.

Peter gave the creature a grateful smile.

"And Jarnus," the king began again, turning to the Faun. "Please bring me your report from the armoury as early as you can tomorrow. I have spoken to some of the staff there, and they should have things well organized by now. If you can complete a quick tally of our supplies and bring it to the council tomorrow, that would be a wonderful help to us."

The young faun, who did not look like he was yet out of his teenage years, bowed deeply before giving an excited nod. "I will do my very best, Your Majesty." He assured, nearly quaking with excitement at the thought of his important duty. "I will not let you down."

Peter let out a quiet chuckle and gave the faun a reassuring pat on the back. "I don't doubt it, Jarnus." He replied. "You have already proved your diligence."

The faun beamed at the compliment, and Helen could hardly suppress a smile as she took note of her son's warm and encouraging manner. He may have been the High King, but he clearly treated all of his subjects with genuine respect. She would have expected no less, though she was happy to confirm what she had heard about him for herself.

"Now." Peter began again, standing up from his chair. "I think that is all for tonight. I suggest that you get yourselves something to eat from the kitchens and head off to bed. We will have another long day ahead of us tomorrow, I am afraid, and you will need a good rest. I thank you for all of your hard work and patience today."

There was a scratching of chairs as the others stood up and bid their king good night. Peter accepted their well wishes graciously, and remained standing until all three had left. The moment the door shut, however, he relaxed his confidant stance and sank back into his seat. His eyes slid shut, and he let out a long and burdened sigh.

Helen was surprised to see how quickly his kingly demeanour faded, and she realized that the aura of unwavering strength he had been exhibiting had been a façade…a very convincing façade, that had fooled even her.

Concerned by his show of fatigue, she walked across the room towards him, seating herself on his right side and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Peter, darling, are you alright?" She asked, cautiously.

After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm alright, Mum." He replied, his voice much less confidant then before. "I just need a few seconds, it has been a terribly long day."

She nodded and waited for him to collect himself, the annoyance she had felt when she had first entered the room quickly diminishing. She was being too hard on him, she realized as she glanced at his tired features, he clearly had a lot to deal with, and it was unfair to expect him to have time to spare during his day. Though, she reminded herself, he would only make matters worse if he failed to look after himself. At the very least, it was her duty to remind him of that.

Before she could bring up that topic, however, the young man spoke.

"How was your first day at Cair Paravel?" He asked, sitting up a bit straighter then before. His initial fatigue seemed to be fading slightly. "Alright, I hope."

She nodded, assuring him that she had been very impressed with the delights the palace had to offer. "It is a wonderful place." She admitted. "And I enjoyed exploring it. But, more important then that, I was very happy to finally spend some time with my children…to get to know them again. Well, three of them at least…" She finished, with a sad smile in his direction.

He looked uncomfortable once again, and this time she felt a gnawing guilt at the sight.

"Sorry I wasn't around." He said, with a small sigh. "There was just so much to do, and I could not get away. Trust me, I'd rather be spending time with you, Lucy, Su and Ed- and I hope that sometime soon we will be able to take a bit of a break together- but unfortunately, duty calls."

The mother nodded. "I know, Peter." She assured him, patting his hand reassuringly. "Please don't feel guilty about it. I admit, I was saddened, and a bit annoyed, when I did not see you around today, and had hoped to spend more time with you, but I am beginning to realize how many things you have to deal with. I am happy to be here with all of you, but I do not want to add to your burdens."

"You'll never be a burden." He replied quickly.

She could see the honesty in his deep blue eyes, and found herself unable to doubt his words.

"Thank you, darling." She said, enjoying the sense of warmth and satisfaction that had filled her with his assurance. Helen knew that all of her children seemed glad to have her there, but she would be lying if she said that all of her initial doubts had simply faded away. Her insecurity sometimes got the better of her, and (although she was the parent and knew she should be the one offering them comfort), their reassurance was never unwelcome.

After revelling in her happiness for another brief moment, Helen glanced at her oldest child thoughtfully, and her smile began to fade as she was struck by a sudden thought.

"I can't even begin to imagine how hard it must have been for you, Peter." She stated, expressing a thought that had been bothering her since her arrival. "Being crowned at such a young age…having to look after your siblings, and your kingdom. That is too much responsibility, even now. You are still so young."

The more Helen thought about it, the more she hated that she had not been there from the beginning. He should not have had to deal with so much…she should have been there…she should have done her motherly duty and eased his burdens.

Though, she realized, she had had no choice in the matter and there was little she could do to change things now.

As she looked up again, he turned his gaze away from her for a moment, and she was struck (once more) by how youthful he still looked. He may have been fully grown, and larger then she, but Helen could still see her little boy in his handsome features.

He had gown up too fast.

Missed out on a proper childhood.

But the glimmer of his former, carefree self was ever present.

Despite all he had been though, he was still _her_ Peter.

He always would be.

The young man gave her a reassuring smile and tried to shrug off her concerns. "I'm twenty-nine now, Mum." He reminded her. "I am a grown man, and I can handle it. It may be difficult, at times, but I have no choice. It is my duty, and I have always done my best to fulfil my promises to my people..." He paused "…and to you."

Helen's eyes widened in surprise.

_His promise to her? _

She could not recall what he was referring to, as she quickly confessed.

"To me?" She asked. "What do you mean?"

Peter smiled again, his eyes suddenly more distant then before. "Do you not remember what you said to me at the train station? The day we left for the country?" He asked. "It was seven months ago for you, and nearly sixteen years ago for me, but I still remember as if it was yesterday."

Helen hesitated, straining to remember that dreadful day. It had been horrible, sending them away like that, not knowing if she would ever see them again, and (for the sake of her own sanity) she tried not to dwell on it too often. As she forced herself to remember it, however, the scene came rushing back.

"I told you to look after the others." She recalled, realization dawning. "And you swore that you would."

He nodded, indicating that this had been the promise he had been referring to.

It had seemed like the natural thing to say to her eldest child at the time, she mused, though she had not expected him to take the request so seriously for so many years. Clearly, her final words to him that day had had a bigger impact then she had ever anticipated.

Though, she supposed, Peter had always had a strong sense of duty, and had always been protective of his brother and sisters, even at a young age. In some ways, his deep commitment to this particular promise was no surprise.

Touched that her words had meant to much to him, even after everything he had been through, Helen could not suppress a smile. "Oh Peter." She began warmly. "You have done such a wonderful job. I couldn't be prouder." The woman paused for a moment before continuing. "Though I do hope that you did not disregard yourself in the process. When I asked you to look after the others, I did not mean that you should do so at your own expense. You are just as important, you know, and I wanted all of my children to be safe and happy."

She could not decipher his expression as she spoke, and for a moment she worried that she had upset him with her words. Much to her relief, however, he soon indicated otherwise.

"Thanks." He said, his voice much softer and full of more emotion then before. "I…I…" He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I always tried, so hard, but I sometimes felt like I was letting you down. I did my best to protect them, but it was nearly impossible at times. Especially with Ed." He admitted, a note of sadness in his voice. "I failed him, and you, terribly when we first arrived. And, stubborn as he is, I have continually failed to shield him from the horrors of battle. For that, I am sorry."

She could sense the genuine regret in his voice, and it pained her to think that he mulled over these perceived failures. In her view, he had done a wonderful job, keeping the family safe and together, and protecting them the best he could. He had gone above and beyond her expectations, though she wondered if she could ever convince him of this.

Despite the air of confidence and ease he easily portrayed, Peter (it appeared) had just as many doubts as anyone. It was not his lack of doubt that made him a strong King, but rather his ability to mask such uncertainties whenever necessary.

Reaching towards him, Helen gently removed the gold crown form her sons head and placed it beside him on the table. He seemed taken aback by this gesture (she suspected that few, if any, had ever removed the High Kings crown), but she refused to balk under his gaze.

He needed to be free of his burdens, if only for a moment.

He needed to simply be Peter.

"Perhaps I cannot convince you." Helen began again, her expression serious. "But please believe me when I say that you have not let me down. I know that I have not been here for long, but I have already observed so many positive things, and I know what a central role you have played in keeping this family, and this kingdom, together." She paused, her mind drifting back to her conversation with her other son. "I know what happened to Edmund." She continued. "But none of that was your fault. He doesn't blame you, and neither do I. You were both children and, in the end at least, everything worked out as it should. You can't shield them from everything, Peter, I never asked that of you, and I never would."

There was a brief pause before the young man nodded, letting out another sigh. "I suppose." He muttered, running large a hand through his dark blonde hair.

"You're much too hard on yourself, darling." Helen chided tenderly. "It is apparent, from my perspective, that you are a wonderful King, and an even better brother. Please try to remember that, at least sometimes."

He chuckled softly, and she was happy to see a flicker of happiness cross his face. "I'll try." He agreed, smiling down at her. "Though you better be careful that these sorts of conversations don't start going to my head."

Helen smiled back. "I will keep you in line, I promise." She replied. "That is a mother's duty, after all."

The young king nodded, this time letting out a loud yawn as he finished.

His fatigue was becoming increasingly apparent, and the mother knew that she could no longer justify keeping him here. As he had said, it had been a very long day and he clearly needed some rest. There would, she was sure, be more time to talk in the near future. With luck, state business would calm down once the monarchs got resettled.

"I think you need to start taking your own advice." She began, recalling what he had said to his men several minutes ago. "I suggest you get some food from the kitchens and then get some rest. I am sure you have another busy day ahead."

Peter's smile faded quickly. "I do indeed." He agreed, glancing forlornly around the meeting chamber. "Unfortunately, I doubt I will have much free time tomorrow either. There are certain pressing matters that must be dealt with." He seemed to want to say more, and Helen was tempted to ask him what these matters were, but she knew that his rest was more important at the moment.

"Then I think it is best if we are both off, then." Helen stated.

Silently, mother and son both rose from their seats and she gestured for him to come forward. He complied and, putting a hand on his shoulder, she pulled him towards her and placed a gentle kiss atop his head.

"Goodnight, Peter." She said, releasing him. "I love you."

"Goodnight, Mum. I love you too." He replied, his smile wider then before. "And I am glad we got to talk, if only for a little while."

Nodding, she watched as he picked up his crown from the table and placed it back on his head. He turned to leave the room, his shoulders straight and his stride strong and sure; once again, he was every inch the High King.

It was a sight that filled her with an odd mixture of sadness and pride. He bore it well, but a part of her still wished that he didn't have to…

It was both a blessing and a burden.

As he reached for the doorknob, Helen could not prevent herself from expressing one final thought before he left her for the night.

"You're not alone, Peter." She said softly, her eyes fixed on her noble son. "You don't have to protect everyone else by yourself. Not anymore."

He froze and, after a long pause, he turned to face her once more.

"Thanks." He replied, looking more vulnerable and worn then he had a second before. "That helps. More then you know."

And with that, he was gone, leaving the mother to mull over her long (and often emotional) day in the dark and silent meeting room.

Although she was pleased that she had managed to spend at least some time reconnecting with each of her children, she knew that she had only begun to scratch the surface. There was still so much to know, so much to discover, and she wondered (considering how much time she had missed) if she could ever know them as completely as she once had.

She supposed that it would be near impossible to fill in every missing day (no matter how much she wanted to), but she held out hope that the most important moments- the ones that had shaped the wonderful men and women that they had become- would one day be shared.

That, she believed, was a more realistic ambition.

Sighing, she starred at the door where her eldest son had just stood, replaying the four conversations in her mind.

Lucy's wisdom…Susan's compassion…Edmund's intelligence…Peter's sense of duty...

She was unbelievably proud of all of them, though the darker aspects of her day also weighed heavily on her mind. Lucy had revealed the inexplicable unhappiness they had all felt before their departure, Susan had told her that none had settled down or found love. Edmund had shown his deep sense of guilt, and Peter had exhibited the burdens associated with their positions.

To outside observers, they may have seemed like confidant and content monarchs, ruling their kingdom with ease and wisdom. As she had quickly discovered, however, there was much more that lurked beneath the surface.

Uncertainty.

Insecurity.

Doubt.

They could not, she realized, afford to reveal such things to many people. They had to appear strong and steady, and to represent their kingdom and inspire the love and respect of their subjects. They had done a fantastic job of it last night, as they stood proudly and received their crowns, she had almost believed in their infallibility herself…though today she had seen a different side of things.

A side that few ever saw.

She wondered who they had confided in, aside from each other, before her arrival and noted that (aside from, possibly, Mr. Tumnus) none seemed close enough to the young monarchs to truly see their struggles.

Maybe Lucy was right. Maybe they really did need her here, to comfort them in moments of weakness when no one else could.

Glancing up at the door again and thinking back to her conversation with Peter, Helen gave a sad smile.

She could sense, from his words, that something was coming.

Something big.

Something that was causing him, and the others, much distress.

Helen could not even begin to guess what it was, or how bad it would be, but she promised herself that she would do everything she could to help them through it.

It was, after all, a mother's duty to be there for her children, no matter what.

They had been called back here for a reason.

And so had she.

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A/N Sorry for the long wait! Intended to write sooner, but caught a lovely flu. Hope the longer then normal chapter made up for it. This took me AGES, but I hope it was worth it. Loved writing the Edmund bit, though I apologize if it dragged on too much. I felt like, as the one who changed the most, Helen would need more time to reconnect with him. Hope it wasn't too mushy, though this is one of those touchy feely emotional type stories.

PLEASE REVIEW!

The action should pick up a bit more soon, something IS coming, if you want it!

Some replies:

FyreFlyte- Yes, Helen should see her boys in action- in the next chapter, if all goes to plan. Thanks for the review!

RixxiSpooks- Yeah, totally picturing older Will and Skandar. I imagine they will both be extremely adorable at 24 and 28 (not that they aren't now, of course). I admit, I have a terrible infatuation- especially with Will (I feel a bit too odd ogling Skandar who is much too young for me. Will is, at least my age. Hurrah!) Thanks for the review, and for your AMAZING review of my other story- I will get back to it, eventually, I have the entire thing outlined. Just distracted by this right now.

Anime Princess- I don't want to reveal how long they will stay, but I can say that Helen will see some fighting. Or at least, practice fighting. Thanks again!

Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews! They keep me writing!


	6. A Mother's Fear

Before Helen knew it, her first week in Narnia had passed.

Looking back, it seemed to go by unbelievably quickly; there was so much going on around her, so much to take in, and the constant flurry of activity kept her occupied during most of her waking hours. She was only just beginning to get her bearings, and she still could not get through a day without dwelling on how surreal it all felt, but she had (as of yet, at least) had little time to sit and truly reflect on the situation.

Her children, it seemed, had taken it upon themselves to monitor her carefully, and she rarely seemed to spend time alone.

Most days, Lucy or Susan would come to her room to wake her for breakfast, and she would join the court in the great hall for the morning meal. Much to her pleasure, Peter and Edmund seldom seemed to skip breakfast (though their lunch and dinner habits still left something to be desired), and she had come to look forward to the first hour of her day, which was often spent in the company of all of her children.

Although she had assured the four that they should not let her distract them from their daily duties, they were all determined to ensure that she was not left idle. Frequently, Susan or Lucy would spend a good portion of their afternoon with her and the boys (when their duties were not too overwhelming) would accompany her on an evening walk or join her in her chambers for an evening snack. When the Kings and Queens were occupied, various members of the court (at the behest of her children, she was certain) would eagerly arrive to keep her company and, although she appreciated all of the attention and concern, she was beginning to feel a tad bit smothered by it all.

She was well aware that they were worried about her adjustment to this new world, and she knew that they wanted to make things as easy and pleasant as possible, but she _was_ a grown woman who was perfectly capable of looking after herself. She was used to being self sufficient (especially after her last few years in England, in which she had, reluctantly, become accustomed to getting by without her husbands support) and like everyone, she sometimes needed time to simply be alone. She enjoyed the companionship of others (and, of course, cherished her time with her children), but she also had moments when she longed to sit quietly next to the fire with nothing but a warm cup of tea for company. There needed to be a balance and, at the current moment, she was getting too much of the former without any of the latter. Helen hoped to speak to her children about the matter soon, but she knew the conversation would have to wait a little bit longer- until tomorrow's breakfast, at least.

Snapping out of her daze, Helen turned back towards her current companion hoping that the distant look on her face had not seemed impolite.

The girls had both run off to discuss the menu of the evening's banquet with the kitchen staff, leaving their mother with Mrs. Beaver, one of their oldest and dearest friends. When she had met the female beaver for the first time earlier that week, Helen had instantly seen why her children were drawn to this sweet creature and found herself forming a quick friendship with the other woman. Of all of the people she had met since her arrival, she enjoyed Mrs. Beaver's company the most, and the two had already had several pleasant and delightful conversations. She had (admittedly) felt a slight pang of jealousy when she had first listened to Mrs. Beaver, sounding so much like an affectionate and watchful mother, describe her children's early years in Narnia. As she had listened to the other woman's stories, however, her envy had soon been pushed aside and replaced with a deep gratitude (which she had happily expressed), and the two were able to bond over the similar affection they both shared for the royal four.

Helen was truly glad to see that her children had had someone to watch over them when she had been unable to, and she did genuinely enjoy Mrs. Beaver's company (all desire for alone time aside).

Smiling, she averted her gaze down and continued to listen to her companion's current rant.

"So then, Mr. Beaver comes marching it at half eight, telling me that he and Badger had lost track of time (but not offering an apology, mind you), and has the nerve to ask me what I made him for dinner!" The beaver exclaimed, shaking her head in frustration. "So I told him he had missed his chance and would have to wait till morning when _he_ could cook us both breakfast." She paused. "I did regret that remark the next day though, when I woke up to find the kitchen a mess and the smell of burning fish filling the house. Sometimes I wonder how he ever survived without me. Couldn't find his own tail if it wasn't attached to his body, I don't think."

Helen chuckled as Mrs. Beaver described her unpleasant evening. She knew that the two beavers shared a deep affection for each other, but (as the other woman's stories often made clear), they did not see eye to eye on many issues and rarely made it though a day without some sort of small quarrel.

"But that is marriage for you, I suppose." Mrs. Beaver continued with another exasperated shake of her head. "You know what it's like."

Mrs. Beaver shrugged and continued walking down the long hallway, clearly not thinking much of her remark or knowing what effect it might have on her new found friend. Helen however, felt an unpleasant churning inside her stomach, and stopped abruptly, leaning against a nearby wall for support. She stared straight ahead, feeling suddenly detached from her body, and seeing nothing but a familiar handsome face in her mind.

_Frank… _

Helen had been making a conscious effort in recent days not to think about her husband, or how distant they now were. Thoughts of him had, of course, flickered through her mind on several occasions since her arrival, but she had tried hard not to dwell on them; she had known that she would not be able to evade the issue forever, but it was simply too difficult to think about…too painful…she did think that she had the strength to deal with it yet.

The last few years in England, since he had been called away to fight for his country, had not been easy for her. She had suddenly found herself feeling hopelessly alone, left with four children who needed her to be strong. It had been hard, but she had always managed to keep a stoic face in front of them, to assure them that everything would be okay and that their father would soon return. But, in truth, she found it hard to convince herself of her own words, and she often let her tears overcome her when the children were tucked safely in bed.

During those dark and agonizing nights, she had tried to assure herself that she would see him again, and she cherished each of his affectionate letters…but everyday the radio and newspaper would list off more casualties of the war, and it was difficult to stay strong when she saw others crumbling around her.

Mrs. Foster, the sweet old woman who lived down the street, had lost both of her sons in the fields of France within four months, and Helen could hardly stand to see the broken woman her neighbour had become; she had lost everything, and now sat alone in her house with empty eyes, doing nothing but waiting for her own release from this painful life. A few months ago, she had also heard the terrible news that an old school friend of hers had lost her husband and was now left to raise three young children who would never know their father. Helen was not sure if she could survive such a terrible loss, and she prayed every day that she would not have to.

She had last received word from Frank about two weeks ago, and had written back telling him that the children were now home and safe (she did not mention how different they were, for she did not think he needed anything to add to his worries). As far as she knew, he was still okay, but since her arrival in Narnia her fear of never seeing him again had, of course, increased significantly.

Grateful as she was to be here with her children (it was certainly preferable to them leaving her behind), she was painfully aware of the fact that their family was not quite complete. They were here, in this marvellous castle in a beautiful land, while Frank was (literally) a world away, wrapped up in a terrible and dangerous war against the despots of Europe. If they stayed forever, as her children clearly hoped they would, it was very possible that they never would be reunited; that she would never see his smiling face, feel his warm embrace, or hear his comforting words...

The thought of that was almost unbearable.

Helen felt a small hand on her leg, and she looked down to see Mrs. Beaver starring up at her, concerned.

"What is it dear? Are you alright?" The tender creature asked, giving her a reassuring pat.

Drawing a deep breath, the woman tried (and failed) to give her friend a reassuring smile.

"I'm fi…" She began, trailing off.

She wanted to deny it, to say that she was okay and push her dark thoughts from her mind (as she had been all week), but she knew that it would not get any easier until she began to confront it.

She decided to be honest.

"No, I'm not alright." Helen admitted, fighting back the lump forming in her throat. "It's just…" She began again, her voice quiet. "When I hear you speaking about your husband, I can't help but think about my own…and about how much I miss him."

The beaver's eyes widened and filled with even more concern. "Oh dear." She said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I am sure that being separated from him must not be easy for you. I may complain about Mr. Beaver, but I cannot imagine life without him, and I feel terrible for complaining when your own situation is much worse. I do hope you'll forgive me for being so insensitive."

"It's not your fault." Helen reassured her, letting out a deep sigh. She did not harbour any ill feelings towards her dear new friend. "I know you didn't mean to upset me, and you shouldn't feel bad. This is just something I haven't quite dealt with yet." She paused, her eyes fixed on one of the Cair's elaborate golden chandeliers for a moment. "It is hard not knowing if I will ever see him again, and I wish he was here too."

Mrs. Beaver nodded. "Of course." Her tone was filled with compassion and understanding. "It must be awful not knowing. It is a shame that he was not able to accompany you here, I have heard many wonderful things about your husband."

Surprised by the other woman's remark, Helen directed her gaze back towards her companion. "You have?" She asked, now intrigued. "From whom?

"Your children, of course." Mrs. Beaver answered with a smile. "They always spoke highly of him…of both of you, for that matter. Whenever he was mentioned I could see the admiration and love in their eyes, and I knew that he must have been a great man to have helped raise such noble children." The beaver paused, looking thoughtful. "They said that, in your world, he had gone off to fight in a war, and Peter once told me that he admired him for it…and that thinking of his father's bravery in battle often gave him strength when he fought his own."

Helen felt oddly comforted by this. It warmed her to know that his influence on her children's lives was respected, even here.

His presence suddenly felt a little less distant.

"He and Peter were always close." Helen mused, remembering the many tender moments which had been shared between father and son. "I see so much of him in Peter now that he has grown, and Edmund too. They both look so much like their father, though only Peter inherited his colouring."

She paused after this, her mind drifting back to a simpler time. Frank had always been a caring father and there had been a time, before the war, when they had all been so happy. After Lucy had been born, they had known that their family was complete, and for seven years things had finally felt right. Life was not perfect, of course; they had fought at times, disagreed over small things that now seemed so silly…but things were generally good, and she had always known that he loved them all deeply.

Helen longed to have that feeling of completeness once again, and wondered if she ever would.

"How did you meet?" Mrs. Beaver asked, breaking her away from her thoughts. "I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but-"

"No, no." Helen assured her. "I don't mind. It is good to talk. I need to." Pushing herself away from the wall, still feeling shaky but (finally) collected enough to stand on her own.

"I was visiting my aunt in Oxford when we first met." She began, not noticing the confused look she received from her companion (who had never heard of Oxford before).

"Frank was attending the university, he was in his final year at the time, and I had just turned nineteen. My aunt, who was set on finding me a respectable husband, had been forcing me to meet various young men during my stay there, and I was getting quite tired of all of the awkward conversations. One afternoon, rather then stay in her stuffy old house and meet the dull gentleman she had invited to tea that day, I snuck out the back door and made my way into the centre of the town, happy to be out on my own. I was determined to enjoy the day alone, exploring the area without thinking about marriage or courtship."

Helen smiled for the first time in the past few minutes. "But, as luck would have it, after barely a half hour, I was starring up in awe at the main building of the Bodleian library when I, quite literally, ran into a young man my age. I apologised for knocking into him, terribly embarrassed, but he took it well, saying that he didn't mind at all. I was eager to make a quick escape, barely able to look him in the eye, but before I could dash off he asked me if I wanted to join him for lunch. Forgetting my earlier vow, I said yes and had the first pleasant conversation I'd had since my arrival. We spent a lot of time together during my stay, and kept in touch after I left. By the next summer, things had become rather serious and, two years later, we were wed. My aunt was never pleased, because she had been hoping to pick out a young man (of high social standing) for me herself, but I did not regret it. Frank was far more intelligent and compassionate then any of the men she tried to force on me. We were happy, and that was what mattered."

Mrs. Beaver chuckled. "Yes, it is always best to follow ones own heart." She agreed.

"Indeed." Helen nodded, unable to imagine how different her life would be if she had agreed to marry one of the men her aunt had proposed.

Frank may not have hailed from a particularly wealthy or prestigious family, but he was a good man who had always loved and respected her. There had been times when money was tight (he made a good salary as an economics professor in the city, but supporting a family of six was not an easy task), but they always managed to get by. He had given her four beautiful children, and provided her with a loving and comfortable home; to Helen, that was worth more then any title or family fortune.

Looking back, even now that they were worlds apart, she knew that she would not change a thing.

The separation was painful, and she doubted that it would get much easier as time passed, but she could only trust that this was how things were meant to be and hope that their distance would not be permanent.

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she silently asked Aslan for strength, relishing the wave of calm that suddenly seemed to wash over her.

Somehow, she knew that He had a plan.

"Well, enough of that for now, I suppose." Helen said, pushing her thoughts aside for the moment. She appreciated Mrs. Beaver's willingness to listen, but she did not want to stand in the hallway all day wallowing in her memories. There would be time to cope more fully later. "Shall we continue?"

The beaver nodded, still looking concerned, but happy to oblige her friend and move onto an easier topic of conversation.

The two started off down the hallway again, refocused on their destination. They had spent much of the afternoon enjoying a pleasant walk in the gardens and, after a quick lunch, Mrs. Beaver had insisted on showing Helen the boy's training room (which was where they had been headed before their conversation had provided a distraction).

The mother was not sure what to expect, but she had to admit that she was intrigued. She had heard several things about her sons during her week in the castle, and had been told on several occasions that they were both known for their skill on the battlefield (a fact that filled her with both anxiety and pride). She hated the idea of he sons going to war (after all, she had sent them away to avoid such a thing), and was not pleased to discover that they had escaped the war in England only to spend fifteen years defending another kingdom. On the other hand, she was undeniably curious to see them practice their skills for herself.

"I am not sure if they will be there now, but if they are, I am sure that you will be quite impressed." Mrs. Beaver said, as they rounded another corner. "The King's are renowned for their swordsmanship throughout the land and have won more tournaments then I can count on both paws."

Helen gave an uneasy smile, again not quite sure how she felt about that. It was quite the achievement, of course, but her motherly instincts caused her to worry about their safety during such events.

She hoped that their practices were no where near as dangerous as a real duel; she was not sure if she could bear to watch such a thing.

"Ah, here we are then." Mrs. Beaver declared, stopping in front of a dark wooden door.

She paused for a moment, pushing her small ear up against it. "Ah yes," The beaver continued. "It sounds like they are having a practice. We are in luck."

Apprehensive, Helen pushed open the door and walked into the large chamber. Instantly, she could hear the loud clanking of metal on metal (which stopped abruptly after a few seconds), and as she stepped away from the door she caught a glimpse of the other three figures in the room.

One, standing off to the side, was Oreius the centaur who she had met several times that week. He was observing the other two figures carefully, watching as they circled each other, their swords raised and ready to strike.

She felt Mrs. Beaver nudge her further inside, and she walked quietly towards the stone ledge which separated the observation room from the rest of the chamber, her eyes fixed on the scene before her.

The room, she quickly observed, had two sections; a small observation booth, which she and Mrs. Beaver had entered into, and a large open area, with various swords, shields and other weapons haphazardly lining the sides. Unlike most other rooms in the Cair, it had very little decoration and looked rather harsh and austere, though the large windows did let in a comforting amount of pleasant sunlight.

Focusing her gaze on the two central figures, who continued to stand at the ready a short distance apart, Helen noted that she could not tell who was who (for both were covered in armour and their faces were obscured by helmets). They were, however, clearly human men and (in all likelihood) her sons. Both held a sword and shield firmly in their hands, looking (to Helen) like knights who had stepped right out of a medieval fairy tale. Like many things here, it seemed so incredibly surreal, and she had to remind herself that this was not a dream.

There was a moment of absolute silence as the two stopped their careful circling. Helen could hear nothing but the pounding of her own heart as she waited, knowing that this was simply the calm before the storm.

Three.

Two.

One.

_Crash._

The two figures lunged at each other, almost in unison, their swords glinting in the sunlight as they met with a reverberating clang. After the initial contact between the weapons, a flurry of action began, and Helen could only gape, open mouthed, at the sight before her.

The swords crashed against each other again and again, as the knights began a series of rapid offensive and defensive strikes. One would bring his sword towards the other with such speed that she could barely follow its movement, but the other would (somehow) manage to anticipate the move and block it perfectly before any harm could be done. The second would then try to strike a blow, but again this would be blocked by the skill of his opponent.

They continued their deadly dance for several long minutes, each swing, dodge and block more impressive then the last. The sound of the swords meeting filled the large room, becoming louder and more frequent as the fight progressed.

It was so incredibly fast…

So powerful…

And Helen soon found that she was too mesmerized to express her earlier concerns. Despite her unease, she could not help but think that the sight of these two warriors in battle, at the peak of their skill and strength, was (in an odd sort of way) breathtakingly beautiful.

She watched in awe, scarcely able to believe that these soldiers were her sons.

_Clang. _

Another swing was blocked.

_Clang. _

The two swords met.

_Clang. _

One of the warriors was disarmed, his sword flung across the room by a particularly quick attack from his challenger.

Helen was scarcely able to breathe, wondering what would come now that once clearly had the advantage…

Thankfully, the two stopped abruptly after this, placing their swords and shields down on the stone floor with one final bang.

The tension between them faded instantly, and she gave a sigh of relief.

The fight, it seemed, was over.

Her eyes still wide, Helen watched as the two warriors removed their helmets, finally revealing their identities and confirming that they were, indeed, her sons.

"Good one, Ed." Peter conceded, placing down his helmet and taking a few steps across the room to retrieve the sword his brother had knocked from his hand.

Edmund, it seemed, had been victorious.

The younger king smiled, removing his glove and using his bare hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. His dark hair was sticking to his forehead but, despite his fatigue, he looked immensely satisfied.

"Thanks Pete." He said, showing no sign of hostility towards the man who he had been attacking seconds earlier. His grin widening, he added. "It seems you are getting slow in your old age."

The older man glared at his brother, but Helen could see a small smirk pulling at the side of his face. "Gee, thanks Ed. You sure know how to bolster a man's confidence." He shook his head, bemused. "If Rhindon wasn't being sharpened in the armoury, then I'd have had a better shot. I'm not used to this sword."

Edmund shrugged, not letting this disadvantage hinder his victory. "A likely excuse." He replied. "Need I remind you about last summer's tournament…"

"Your majesties." A deep voice cut in, bringing the playful bickering to an end. The centaur had stepped forward and was addressing the two Kings.

"You both preformed well. But King Peter-" He turned to the older monarch. "You still need to work on your left blocks, King Edmund knew your weakness and was able to disarm you because of it. And King Edmund-" He redirected his gaze. "You need to focus on stepping back faster after an offensive blow. You cannot afford even the briefest of pauses in battle."

The two nodded, clearly willing to take this advice from their mentor.

"Though, I must add that I am impressed that your skills have remained so sharp during your departure." The centaur finished, a note of pride in his voice as he addressed the young men.

Clearly pleased by the compliment (Oreius did not strike Helen as the sort of person who gave them easily), the brothers exchanged a grin.

"We thank you Oreius, as always, for your guidance." Peter said, nodding towards the centaur. "We have missed these sessions terribly. It is good to be back."

Oreius nodded. "That is enough for today, I think." He stated, glancing towards the door. "Your sisters will be most displeased if I keep you here any longer and do not allow you to get ready for the banquet tonight."

The younger king rolled his eyes. "I'd rather stay and practice." He muttered.

Oreius chuckled, and Peter gave him a jovial pat on the back. "Come on, Ed." He said. "It won't be _that _bad. And I give you permission to tell any young woman you may meet tonight that you beat the High King in combat."

Edmund muttered something Helen could not hear (which was, probably, for the best), and Peter let out a loud laugh before the two began to gather their things and make their way towards the door, the centaur close behind.

"Mum!" Peter exclaimed, seeing her for the first time since her arrival. She had been standing near a column which had partially hidden her from view, and the boys had been too wrapped up in their activities to notice her appearance.

"How long have you been here?"

Helen tried to smile, but the shock of seeing her boys in action had not quite worn off. "A little while." She answered.

"I thought she'd enjoy seeing what you boys can do." Mrs. Beaver chimed in, hopping from the stool she had been occupying onto the stone ledge of the viewing area, putting herself at eye level with her human companions. "We watched your last fight. Very well done, your majesties. And congratulations Edmund."

Peter thanked her for the compliment and Edmund blushed ever so slightly before chancing a quick glance in his mother's direction. Helen knew he was trying to gauge her reaction.

"It was…" the mother began, searching for the words to describe what she had just seen.

It was impressive, to be certain, and (although she knew little about sword fighting techniques) even she knew that they both possessed an impressive degree of skill. But it was still somewhat unsettling, to see her boys locked in combat like that…and she could not help but wonder what sorts of terrible battles they had participated in to perfect such a deadly art.

Finally, she gave the only answer she could.

"I am speechless." She admitted, looking back and forth between her two sons. Helen felt even more dwarfed by them then she usually did, as they stood before her dressed in full armour. "How did you learn to fight like that?" She asked, her voice quieter then before.

The brothers exchanged an uncomfortable glance. "You learn quickly, when you have no choice." Peter admitted, avoiding her gaze. "And, of course, Oreius has always been there to help us hone our techniques in times of peace. We could not ask for a better guide."

The centaur gave a small smile.

"So you fight like that?" The mother asked, trying not to stumble on her words as she pictured her sons in such a situation. "In battle, I mean?"

Edmund bit is lip nervously. "Well, not exactly like that. We use swords, of course. But we are often on horseback, and don't generally have one on one duels like that. That was just some fun sparring- real battles are different."

Helen tried not to shudder. She knew that in a real situation, the fight would not stop when one opponent dropped his sword. It would continue, mercilessly, to the death.

She wondered how many close calls they'd had over the years…

Wondered how many they'd had to kill…

It was a dreadful thought.

"But at least in battle, we get to fight side by side." Peter added, a small smile flickering across his face. "It is always good to know that the best swordsman in Narnia has got your back."

Edmund grinned widely and, despite all of the terrible things still swirling around in her mind, Helen found herself filled with a sudden warmth.

She knew that she had failed to protect them- to shield them from the horrors of war- but, at the very least, it was reassuring to know that they had always been there for each other, and always would be.

She could fine solace in that.

Nodding, the mother finally gave her appraisal. "You were spectacular, darlings." Helen said, her voice still soft.

The boys beamed, clearly pleased by her praise.

"I just hope you won't have to use your skills any time soon."

She paused, waiting for reassurance…

Waiting for them to tell her that no battles loomed in the near future…

But the comfort never came.

Instead, Peter frowned, and Edmund looked down at the stone floor, avoiding her gaze.

"Some things cannot be avoided." Peter said, his blue eyes full of regret. "Sometimes, battle is the only way to defend the kingdom, freedoms, and people that you cherish."

Helen's heart sank.

She had heard similar words before, from another blue-eyed man she would always love, and she could not help but remember the terrible day that Frank had held her close and told her why he had to leave.

He had been so noble…too noble…

Just like their sons.

"Come now, let's not worry about such things tonight." The tender voice of Mrs. Beaver broke her away from her thoughts. "We have a banquet to attend! Susan and Lucy will be terribly unhappy if we're late."

Edmund smiled, happy for the distraction. "Indeed!" He proclaimed, moving towards the door once more. "We had better get changed and washed up."

Peter chuckled. "Well that is certainly a change in attitude. I thought you hated these things."

"I do." Edmund agreed, his hand on the door knob. "But Susan's wrath is worse then her parties… and it won't be _so_ bad, now that I have permission to tell all the young ladies how my sword compares to the High King's."

And with that, Edmund flashed his brother one last cheeky grin and left the practice room, his armour clanking as he went. Mrs. Beaver let out a disapproving tut, and Peter chuckled again, giving his head a bemused shake.

"Glad you could watch for a bit, Mum." He said, before turning to follow his brother. "We'll see you at the banquet, right?"

Helen nodded. "Of course darling." She replied, watching him trek into the hallway.

She felt Mrs. Beaver give her a reassuring pat on the arm. "Don't look so troubled." She urged with a smile. "The banquet will be lovely. Susan's parties never fail to disappoint."

Helen did not doubt it. She had seen her daughter rushing about and finalizing her meticulous plans all week, and had been looking forward to the event, but she could not help but be distracted after what had just transpired.

She had been discovering new things about her grown children everyday, and was becoming accustomed to the many surprising revelations that seemed to occur on a daily basis, but seeing her son's exhibit their battle prowess had truly taken her aback.

Somehow, it was both magnificent and terrifying at the same time.

She was impressed by their skill, but what scared her most was that (after witnessing such a duel) she could now picture them in the heat of a true conflict…

She could imagine Peter dealing blow after blow to his opponents, his armour stained with blood and his sword raised high. She could see Edmund at his side, cutting down their attackers with a deadly grace. There was could be no doubt in her mind, after what she had seen, that they had faced such things, and been forced to do such deeds.

Helen hoped that they would not be placed in such a scenario again, but Peter's answer to her inquiry made her suspect that they would not be so lucky.

If there was a threat to their country, she had no doubt that they would forge into battle, their heads held high and their swords at the ready. She should expect no less of them, she realized, and she was proud to know the lengths they would go too to defend what they loved.

Like their father, who had helped shape them into the determined and courageous young men they had become, she knew that her son's had the bravery needed to do what was necessary, no matter how difficult that may be.

But she could not help but wonder if_ she_ would be brave enough to let them go...

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_A/N- As always, I went on too long and did not fit everything into this chapter that I planned. Thus, the banquet gets its own chapter- hurrah! And we shall find out exactly why battle will be necessary…_

_**Please review to keep me inspired!**_

_Thanks for all of the input on the last chapter- please keep me on my toes and tell me what you thought, for better or worse!_


	7. A Mother's Frustration

Helen had arrived back in her chambers to discover Lucy and two dryads waiting there to help her prepare for the party.

Despite her protests, and her attempts to assure her daughter and the attendants that she was perfectly capable of getting ready by herself, they had insisted on staying and promptly began to assist her with her dress and hair. Although she was not used to such pampering, Helen had to admit that the dryads did a spectacular job; when they had finished with her, and allowed her to look at herself in a nearby mirror, she had been completely taken aback and (for a brief moment) could scarcely believe that she was starring at her own reflection.

Her deep blue dress and perfectly styled dark hair made her look more elegant then she had in a long while, and she had blushed terribly when one of the dryads (who was herself extremely striking) had told her that it was clear that Queen Susan and Queen Lucy had received their beauty from her.

Helen had never been a terribly vain woman, but even she had to admit that it was nice to feel so lovely for a change. Ever since Peter had been born, motherhood had overtaken nearly everything else in her life, and she had paid little attention to her own upkeep. Nights out had become rare for her and her husband, and she had had little time or reason to preen herself when she spent most of her days changing dirty nappies or picking up after the children.

She had almost forgotten what it was like to feel this beautiful.

The worries which had been weighing her down earlier that evening began to slip away as she and Lucy made their way towards the great hall, chatting happily about the upcoming festivities. Lucy had assured her that the banquet, which was meant to be the official celebration of their return, would be much more splendid and elaborate then the impromptu celebration they had been thrown into during their first day at the Cair.

"_That one wasn't planned."_ The young Queen had explained. _"Just wait until you see what Susan can do when she has enough time to prepare things properly." _

Upon their arrival in the hall, Helen had indeed been shocked by how stunning it looked. Lucy, clearly, had not been exaggerating when she spoke of Susan's eye for detail and elegance. The great hall itself was always lovely, but the deep red table cloths, golden plates and cutlery (ruby encrusted, Helen noted upon closer inspection) and intricate crystal centrepieces brought its beauty to an entirely new level. The walls too had been draped with rich red fabric, and tapestries displaying the profile of a proud gold lion were dispersed throughout the room. In Helen's opinion, it looked absolutely perfect. The decorations were elaborate without being ostentatious, and everything seemed to be carefully placed.

Susan had truly outdone herself, she thought proudly.

After taking a moment to admire her surroundings, she had felt Lucy's hand on her arm and allowed herself to be led towards the high table. There were several creatures in the room already, mostly palace staff it seemed, but she could tell that the majority of guests had not yet arrived. Peter and Edmund, however, were already seated at the royal table and she was impressed that they had managed to get cleaned up and dressed so quickly after their time in the practice room. All evidence of the afternoon's excursions were gone, and both now looked perfectly groomed and dignified wearing their crowns and finest formal attire. As often seemed to be the case, her youngest son was dressed in blue and silver while Peter matched his surroundings in deep red and gold.

The mother could not hold back a smile at the sight.

"Mum, Lucy." Edmund addressed them as they approached, standing up quickly to pull out her chair while Peter did the same for his youngest sister.

Once the women were seated, the older king turned towards them, explaining why the seat on his right remained unoccupied.

"Susan is still rushing about, making the final arrangements." Peter stated, with a nod towards the back of the hall.

Sure enough, Helen could see Susan talking to a female centaur who was frantically jotting down notes on a piece of parchment. Both appeared to be somewhat frazzled, though Susan (despite her stress) still managed to look splendid in her flowing red dress.

"I do hope she is able to join us soon." Helen mused, somewhat concerned that her eldest daughter was overworking herself. After putting so much time and effort into the planning, it would be a shame if she did not get to enjoy the evening along with everyone else.

"Don't worry Mum." Peter assured her. "She said there are only a few more details to work out."

"And besides," Edmund added with a grin, "Su lives for this sort of thing. She might look stressed, but she is loving every second of it. Trust me."

Helen chuckled at this, looking back to watch her daughter make a few more remarks to her assistant before turning abruptly and approaching the high table. A few moments later, she was standing across from Helen, looking (as Edmund had predicted) both anxious and exhilarated.

"Well?" the dark haired Queen began, looking between her four family members. "What do you think?"

"Everything looks spectacular darling!" Helen assured her, with genuine enthusiasm. "I am very impressed."

Susan beamed.

"It is great Su, as always." Peter commended, smiling at his sister. "Though I think it is time for you to join us and relax. Everything will go smoothly, there is no need to worry."

For a moment, Susan looked ready to protest, but she soon balked under her older brother's gaze.

"Alright." She agreed with a small sigh. She took a few steps towards her seat when she was seemingly hit by a sudden thought. "Although I should-"

"Sit down, Susan." It was Edmund who spoke this time, and the young Queen finally gave in and joined the rest of the family at the table.

As she watched the scene, Helen could not help but take note of the strange role reversal that had just occurred. For once, it was the others that were calming Susan down and keeping her from overworking herself; at times, even the gentle and compassionate Queen needed the others to keep her steady, it seemed. It warmed her to know that they all appeared to have the ability to sense what the others required and when.

The bond they shared was deep indeed.

The sound of the ceremonial trumpet broke the mother away from her thoughts, and she looked up to see two guards pulling open the main doors. For a second, her mind flashed back to the image of the great Lion making his trek into the room, and she wondered if he was going to grace them with his presence once again- but it quickly became apparent that this was not the case. Her disappointment at this realization was, however, quite temporary, and Helen soon found herself enthralled by the diverse group of guests that began to filter into the hall.

There were humans, animals and creatures of every description and many had arrived dressed in elaborate robes and finery. Some, she noticed, took their seats immediately, but most began to form a line leading up to the high table. She wondered why they all didn't simply sit, but as Mr. Tumnus rushed onto the royal platform, a long piece of parchment in his hand, she realized that those who remained standing were waiting to be announced.

As Tumnus cleared his throat, her four children stood up from their seats, ready to address the guests that had arrived to celebrate their return. Helen, initially, was not sure what she was supposed to do; clearly, she was seated at the high table (and felt a bit awkward being the only one who remained sitting), but she was not a King or Queen and thus wondered if it was proper for her to stand and join in the greeting.

The formalities of the court were still quite strange to her, and her children had forgotten to mention this aspect of the ceremony.

Thankfully, Peter noticed her hesitation and gestured for her to rise as well. Despite his reassuring smile, Helen was apprehensive as she stood, unsure of what to expect as Tumnus started listing off names and the guests began to approach.

"Lord and Lady Fox, of the Western Wood." The Faun called, announcing the arrival of a proud looking fox and his wife.

The first two guests stood on the platform for a moment, bowing deeply towards the royal family. Peter told them that their attendance was much appreciated and they soon made their way off to the side and found their seats for the banquet.

"Governor Dait of the Lone Islands."

The next guest was called, and quickly came onto the platform to offer the family a similar greeting.

Things continued in this manner for quite some time, and Helen was relieved that she did not seem to be expected to address the new arrivals (though she did politely thank the many guests who said they were pleased to make her acquaintance). She was not generally an unfriendly sort of person, but in such formal situations she was quite unsure of herself and preferred to let her children take on the task (which they did, with impressive grace).

Some guests lingered longer then others, chatting with the royals for a moment before heading towards their tables, while others simply bowed before going on their way. Most seemed pleased to attend, but Helen did note that a few looked less enthusiastic then the others.

She was particularly taken aback by the group of four dour looking men who Tumnus announced as the "Calormene Envoy."

Helen could recall speaking about this country with Susan earlier that week (her unpleasant suitor Rabadash, she recalled, had hailed from this kingdom) and she remembered that Edmund had been reading about it when she had gone to speak with him in the library. Although she knew it was wrong to jump to such fast conclusions, her instincts told her that these men were not a pleasant sort. They approached the high table, staring at the Narnian royals sourly, their stiff tan faces clearly trying (and failing) to hide their distain. After a moment of hesitation, the tallest of the bunch stepped forward, giving the slightest of bows, and smiled crookedly at Peter.

"High King." The man said, without a note of pleasure in his voice. "It grieves us that we must meet during such unpleasant times, but we assure you that the Tisroc (may he live forever) sends his warmest regards and hopes that we may work though the current situation, Tash willing, as quickly as possible."

Helen directed her full attention towards the group, wondering if the man's remarks had anything to do with her children's anxiety during the past week. She knew that, after their arrival, some of the news they had received from their advisors had not been good but (despite her best attempts) she had been unable to figure out exactly what was wrong. This, she knew, was due to her children's determination not to burden or worry her. Every time she had asked them what was wrong, or noted that they looked tense after one of their many meetings, they had brushed off her concerns and quickly changed the topic. It had begun to feel like a bit of a conspiracy in recent days, and even other residents of the palace, like Tumnus and the beavers, had avoided the issue in her presence (on the monarchs' orders, she was certain).

At first she had tried to ignore it, convincing herself that they would tell her what was going on if need be, but she had been growing increasingly frustrated by their secrecy in recent days. _She_ was the parent, after all, and she was the one that was supposed to be protecting them, not vice versa…she could no longer accept being left in the dark.

Perhaps finding out more about the "unpleasant situation" of which the man had spoken would give her the answers she needed, and she made a mental note to find out what she could from the guests that evening. Her children may have been unwilling to tell her what was going on, but there was little chance they had told all of their guests to do the same.

Tonight might be her best chance to get some answers…

Peter nodded, exchanging a discreet look with his brother before replying, his tone much cooler then it had been with the other guests. "We thank you for your warm regards." He replied, starring firmly at the envoy. Helen marvelled at his ability to keep up such a stoic façade as there was, clearly, no warmth between the two groups. "We too hope that the situation can be contained quickly."

"I expect we will be meeting with you tomorrow, as planned?" Edmund questioned, straightening his back as he spoke to make himself look as tall and authoritative as possible.

The leader of the envoy gave another slight bow. "Of course, your majesty." He said, flashing a false grin.

His dark eyes, Helen noticed, lingered on Susan and Lucy for a moment after his address to Edmund. The man's expression was difficult to interpret, but there seemed to be a sort of underlying hunger in his face, and the mother had to resist the urge to break decorum and tell him not to look upon her daughters in such a way.

Much to Helen's relief, after one final forced bow the four made their way off of the platform.

Susan, who had looked terribly uncomfortable since their arrival, closed her eyes for a brief moment and Helen wished that she was not on the other end of the table and could offer some comfort. It was safe to assume that Susan had been unpleasantly reminded of her experience with Rabadash, and needed a moment to collect herself. Thankfully, the young woman managed to quash her discomfort soon after the men left, and was smiling once again by the time the next guests (who were much more pleasant) approached.

As the line finally began to dwindle, and more and more guests took their seats, Helen could not help but marvel at her children's ability to remain so patient and steady. Truth be told, her initial excitement was beginning to wear off, and she was starting to wonder how much longer the greetings could possibly go on. The Kings and Queens, however, managed to greet each arrival with the same degree of warmth (when it was warranted, that is) and showed no signs of boredom or weariness.

One got used to this sort of things after years of training, she supposed.

The appearance of a particularly jovial group snapped the woman out of her daze, and she looked up to see a pleasant looking man (or rather, king, judging from the crown on his head) standing before her. He was accompanied by three others; two twin teenage boys, and a beautiful young lady with tan skin and straight dark hair.

"King Lune of Archenland." Tumnus called, introducing the group as they bowed. "Accompanied by Prince Cor, Prince Corin and the Tarkheena Aravis."

After the initial bow, the formalities quickly faded away and the new King greeted the other royals with great enthusiasm while Lucy enveloped Aravis a warm hug.

"It is wonderful to see you all again, and I am happy that thou art safe and well!" Lune exclaimed, grinning widely at the four monarchs. "We were very worried after news of your disappearance arrived in Anvard, and much relieved when we heard of your return."

"It is wonderful to see you as well." Peter agreed, smiling at the four guests. "We were all very pleased when we heard you would be able to attend tonight- we have much catching up to do."

Lune nodded. "Indeed. I am eager to hear about your journey." He said, his tone full of an infectious warmth. "Though I do fear that there will be serious matters to discuss as well. I wish for you to know that, as always, you will have our support if it should be needed. It is the least we can do, after your brave defence of our kingdom two summers past." His last sentence was addressed to Edmund and Lucy, who nodded back in response.

"I am glad to hear it, dear friend." Peter replied, his voice more subdued then before. "Though there is still hope that a military campaign will be avoided."

Helen's eyes widened at this.

_A military campaign? _

She had suspected that something was brewing, especially after her discussion with Peter and Edmund that afternoon, but to hear it spoken of so plainly was another matter. If there was the possibility of a military campaign on the horizon, then clearly something was terribly amiss…and Peter's tone told her that he did not (despite his words) have much hope that another solution could be found.

Helen's stomach tightened uncomfortably at the thought, and the sense of dread that had left her since the party began started to re-emerge.

Her mind flashed back to the image of her boys in the practice room, duelling with such deadly grace and power…she could once again picture them in the heat of battle, fighting for their lives as those around them fell to the ground…

Lifeless and cold…

_No_, she thought determinedly, _I cannot let them go_.

"Mum." She jumped slightly as the word broke her away from her thoughts, and she turned to see Peter smiling at her side. "I must introduce you to one of our dearest allies." He said, gesturing towards the king and his companions.

She nodded numbly, trying to focus on the guests and ignore her dark musings.

"This is King Lune of Archenland, his two sons, Princes Cor and Corin, and their friend Tarkheena Aravis." Peter said, nodding to each one in turn. "And this is our mother, Lady Helen." He continued, addressing the guests. "We are very pleased that she was able to return with us."

"Well now!" The jolly King exclaimed, coming forward and placing a polite kiss on her hand. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Lady Helen. The news of your arrival has been quite the topic of discussion, even in Archenland!"

Helen blinked. "It has?"

She blurted out her question without thinking, too surprised to offer a more formal or eloquent response. The attention she had received at the Cair had been unsettling enough, but the thought of people in other kingdoms speaking of her was shocking, to say the least.

"Of course." Lune continued with a slight chuckle. "Many are eager to know more about the mysterious mother of Narnia's beloved monarchs."

Helen found it difficult to hide her apprehension, but she knew it would be rude to scoff at the King's remark. He seemed genuine, but she found it hard to see herself as interesting and "mysterious." She knew her station in this world was different (though knowing something and accepting something are quite different matters), but she still could not help but see herself as an average and unremarkable English housewife- she was certainly not, in her mind, worthy of much discussion.

Though, she supposed, it was not every day that people from their world magically fell into this one; that in itself was a source of intrigue, no matter how mundane the new arrivals might be.

"Well, I…" She trailed off, hating how quiet and unsure she sounded.

Helen wished that she had the ability to sound and confidant and steady as her children, but clearly they had not inherited their noble demeanours from her. She often found that her self-assurance failed her whenever she needed it most.

"It is lovely to meet you, your majesty." She finished with a curtsy, hoping that she had not been too much of an embarrassment.

Lune, still smiling, returned her gesture with a bow. "I do hope we will have an opportunity to speak again later." He said pleasantly before bidding her and the four monarchs a temporary farewell and making his way to a nearby table, the three teenagers in tow.

There were only a few guests left to greet after the Archenland royalty departed, and Helen was happy when the last had taken their seats and the feast was able to begin.

Although every meal at Cair Paravel was expertly prepared, this particular meal far surpassed every previous one. Helen did not think she had ever seen so much finely arranged food in her life and it was difficult to decide on only one main course as she looked at the many dishes before her. She eventually settled on the grilled salmon with a white wine glaze and, after taking her first bite, was certain that she had made the right decision. The meal was delicious, and she carefully savoured every bite as she enjoyed the sound of carefree chatter going on around her.

Although the thought of unpleasant Calomene envoy and the mention of a military campaign had not left her mind (Helen remained determined to use the evening to find out more), she was able to set aside her worries during the meal and simply enjoy the company of her children. This was only the third time they had all attended dinner together, and the mother was thrilled to see them all relaxed and happy.

She hoped there would be more moments like these soon, though the nagging voice in the back of her mind filled her with doubt.

"…so then Ed and Peter decided that they were brave enough to go into the cave themselves, to find out what had been making the noise." Lucy was saying, her face shining with glee as she recounted a tale from one of their first years in the kingdom. "We told them that we could come back later, with a few troops for support just in case, but they insisted that they would be fine. So we waited on the beach while they went in and, only about a minute later, later we heard a terrible high pitched sheik…"

"Come on now Lu, no one wants to hear that story." Edmund cut in, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Peter nodded in agreement. "Ed is right, I don't think…"

"Nonsense." Helen interrupted eager to hear the end of the tale. Lucy had become quite the storyteller during her time in Narnia, and the mother was always happy to hear tales of her children's exploits- no matter how embarrassing. "I want to hear the end of it."

The two young men looked rather put out, but sat back and allowed the youngest sibling to continue.

"Right, so we heard a terrible high pitched sheik," Lucy continued, shooting a mischievous grin at her brothers. "Su and I both thought it was some sort of wounded animal- or maybe a young girl…but a few seconds later Ed and Peter came shooting out of the cave, white as a ghosts, and babbling on about some terrible monster."

Helen chuckled, amused by the mortified look on her sons' faces as Lucy described their behaviour.

"We believed them at first, but the moaning noise in the cave started again and the more I listened the more I found it hard to believe that it was being made by a terrible monster, as they had claimed. So Su and I picked up the torch and went inside, only to find that the monster that had so frightened the brave and manly kings of Narnia was, in fact, nothing more then a lost kitten with an injured paw."

The mother let out a laugh as Lucy finished the story and Edmund cut in defensively, hoping to save at least some of his dignity.

"We approached from a different angle." He explained as Peter nodded vigorously. "Our torch made the cat's shadow look huge and menacing so, yes, we got a little bit worried."

"Worried?" Susan chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You were both terrified."

All three Pevensie women laughed again while Peter and Edmund tried (and failed) to keep straight faces. Soon, the young men were smiling too, and laughter was shared between them all.

For a moment, nothing else mattered, and Helen was truly and completely happy.

Too quickly, however, the conversation came to an end and official duties once again had to be carried out. Soon after they all regained composure, Peter (showing no trace of the fourteen year old boy who had run away screaming from an injured kitten) stood up and addressed the crowd, thanking them all for their attendance and well wishes.

The remnants of the dinner were cleared away, the musicians were ushered in, and the second half of the evening got underway. As the first few bars of music sounded, Helen realized that this evening's dance would be much different from the one she had experienced during her first night at Cair Paravel. That one had been spontaneous, and the music had been chaotic and lively. This time, however, everything was carefully planned and the band had started with a beautiful and expertly played waltz.

She had intended to sit the first few songs out (hoping that she would not have to dance until the floor was full so that her lack of expertise would not be glaringly obvious), but Peter had pulled her out of her seat, explaining that it was customary for entire royal family to partake in the first dance.

He ushered her onto the floor, and she tried to look calm and collected as the first dance began. She danced with Peter, Susan danced with Edmund and Lucy coaxed her dear friend Tumnus into being her first partner of the evening.

It did not go as badly as she would have expected (though she found it hard to ignore the feeling of hundreds of sets of eyes following her), and she was grateful that her long dress masked her awkward footwork.

"I am sorry I am not better at this, Peter darling." She said, letting him guide her towards the left corner of the dance floor. "If I had known that I would end up as a royal mother in a splendid palace, I would have paid more attention in my dance lessons as a child."

Her son laughed. "I suppose that is not something one usually predicts." He mused, grinning. "But don't worry, you're doing fine. Chances are you'll be the best dance partner I'll have all night."

She raised an eyebrow, perplexed by his last remark and the small frown that accompanied it. "What do you mean?" She asked.

The young men hesitated before giving his reply.

"I don't generally enjoy this part of the evening." He admitted as they twirled across the room. "Susan does a lovely job arranging everything, of course, but having a ball open to all the kingdoms generally means the arrival of several…" Peter paused, searching for the right word "…_eager _young ladies."

Helen nodded, beginning to get the gist of it. Susan had mentioned that superficial and ambitious suitors were an unpleasant downside to their royal status, and she _had_ noticed that a couple of the young men and women who had come up to greet the family at the beginning of the evening had been starring at the Kings and Queens quite hopefully.

"By the end of the night I have usually had to dance with so many of them that the thought of another waltz makes me mildly nauseous." The High King continued with a small sigh. "They are not all bad, of course, but I find the great majority to be rather pushy and insistent. I'd much rather avoid them all together, but then one always risks angering one of the other kingdoms. It is my duty to be polite and chivalrous to all of our guests, no matter how trying it might be at times. Ed hates it too." Peter added as an afterthought, "But he has perfected the art of gracious evasion much more then I have. Susan generally doesn't mind, and Lucy is always willing to give anyone a chance."

The mother gave him a sympathetic smile, understanding his predicament and wishing there was something she could do to help. The thought of people pursing her children in hopes of gaining their own titles and glory was a very disquieting notion.

"Yes, Susan did mention that troublesome suitors can be an issue." Helen noted as the song began to come to a close. "I suppose she must know that more then anyone, after what happened with that Rabadash fellow." She paused, trying to gauge Peter's reaction as she mentioned the Calromen's name. He remained stoic, and she continued, thinking that this might be her chance to finally get some solid information out of him. "I have been meaning to ask you a bit more about that incident." She continued. "The Calormene envoy that is here today did not seem too pleasant, and when King Lune mentioned a military cam-"

"Ah, the song seems to have ended." Peter cut in before she could finish. She noticed that his blue eyes were pointedly avoiding her gaze and she knew that, once again, he was evading her questions. "It is too bad really." The King went on. "I may not love waltzes, but I have always thought that that particular song is lovely."

He smiled down warmly as they drew apart, clearly (and much to her growing frustration) unwilling to acknowledge her comment.

"Peter…" She began again, trying to use her firmest voice. "Why are you avoid-"

Helen felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, and she stopped abruptly, turning around to see who was standing behind her. Much to her displeasure, it was a perfectly preened young woman who she had never seen before. The new arrival's eyes were fixed firmly on Peter, and as she gave a low curtsy Helen noted (with disapproval) the slightly low cut of the top of her dress.

Peter, it seemed, had not been lying about the abundance of _eager _young ladies in attendance that evening.

This one certainly seemed quite bold.

"You majesties." The young woman said, her voice sickeningly polite. "I was wondering if I might have the honour of joining the High King for the second waltz of the evening, if it will not be an intrusion."

Helen wanted to give her a quick no, angry at her for both her bold interruption and her obvious intentions with her son, but Peter answered before she did.

Unfortunately, his reply was not the dismissal she had expected and hoped for.

"Of course, milady." He said with a slight bow, his expression both distant and (much to Helen's annoyance) relieved.

After giving Helen a quick kiss on the cheek and thanking her for the dance, Peter and the young woman began to dance the second waltz, making their way across the room and leaving the fuming mother in their wake.

Fists clenched, Helen left the open floor (which was quickly filling up with dancing couples), and sat down at a nearby table, letting out a loud and exasperated sigh.

Peter's blatant evasion of her question had been extremely frustrating, and she was very annoyed that he had been willing to brush her off in favour of the sort of lady that, moments earlier, he had claimed to find abhorrent. He was more determined to hide things from her then she had thought, and this only served to make her own stubbornness flare up with alarming force.

Whatever was going on was clearly bad, and she_ needed_ to know what it was.

They were going to tell her what was happening, she decided.

She was going to find out why her children had seemed so worried lately…why they were constantly meeting with advisors and officials…why her sons had seemed to be preparing themselves for battle…why there had been so many troubled whispers and hushed conversations among the residents of Cair Paravel…

Helen needed answers, and she was not willing to play games any longer.

Filled with a new sense of mission, Helen looked around the crowded room, deciding to start her quest for information with an interrogation of each of her children. Much to her displeasure, Susan was nowhere in sight, and (after another survey of the room) Lucy was similarly difficult to locate.

She was beginning to wonder if they had all left the hall when, thankfully, she spotted Edmund, wrapped up in a conversation with two of the guests. Set on her task, Helen rose from her seat and was about to march towards her youngest son when a voice from behind her interrupted the quest.

"Lady Helen!"

She recognized the jovial voice immediately, and she turned to see a grinning King Lune standing a few feet behind her. At first, she was tempted to tell him that she could not spare a moment to speak with him, but the wide smile on his face made her anger and determination soften slightly. He seemed to be the sort of person who could not help but brighten a room with his infectious love of life, and Helen could not bring herself to be impolite.

"Your majesty." She replied, returning his smile with a small one of her own. "Lovely to see you again."

He nodded before taking a seat at the table she had just been sitting at. "You as well." He agreed warmly. "Shall we sit and talk for awhile? If thou art not otherwise occupied, of course."

Helen glanced across the room where she could still see Edmund conversing with the guests; he seemed to be in a rather deep discussion, and she got the sense that he would not disappear anytime soon. Deciding her interrogation of him could wait a little bit longer, (and remembering that Lune, too, could be a useful source of information) she nodded politely and returned to her seat.

"Of course, your majesty."

King Lune chuckled, a youthful light in his kind eyes. "Please, there is no need for such formalities." He said. "You may call me Lune if you wish, or King Lune if you prefer."

She nodded again. Although she had been growing more accustomed to life in Narnia, the idea that she was of a high enough status here to speak to Kings and Queens as equals was a bit difficult to accept. Her children, of course, were a separate matter- but being informal with the monarchs of others nations seemed improper to her.

Though, she supposed, it was best not to go against his wishes.

"Of course, King Lune." She corrected, unable to drop the royal title. "Have you been enjoying the ball?"

"Oh yes." The pleasant man replied, picking up a nearby pitcher of wine and pouring himself a glass (he offered to do the same for Helen but she declined, feeling much too full from the feat to consume anything else). "Queen Susan always does a lovely job with these events. Narnian balls have quite the reputation, you know. My sons were quite pleased to come here tonight. Most are thrilled to be invited." He nodded towards the north side of the room, where Helen could see one of his sons dancing with Aravis and the other twirling (quite rambunctiously) with a young tree nymph.

Helen smiled, taking a brief glance around the room and noting the many happy Narnians and visitors who filled the great hall. Most certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves though, she remembered, there were some exceptions. "Yes, Susan has outdone herself." The woman agreed, her mind beginning to race she attempted to bring up the topic which was now at the forefront of her mind. "Although some guests seem less enthusiastic then others."

The King raised an eyebrow, perplexed, and Helen continued. "The Calormene envoy did not seem to be a pleasant bunch, and I sensed that they would much rather be elsewhere tonight."

"Ah, an astute observation indeed." Lune mused, his bright smile fading as he spoke. "No, I do not suppose the Calormene dignitaries are too pleased to attend. Though I assure you that they are an exception to the rule."

She sensed that he was hoping to reassure her with this last remark and move onto a more pleasant topic, but Helen was determined not to let that happen.

She chose her next words carefully.

"I know my children have been quite concerned about the current situation." She said, hoping that her vague remarks would not convey the fact that she (on her children's insistence) knew very little about the matter. "They have been so busy since their return and, although I do try to help them as much as I can, I feel so terribly uninformed about everything in this kingdom and fear I am of little use."

"I am sure this is not the case." King Lune assured her, his warm smile returning. "From what Queen Lucy has told me, they are all quite glad that you were able to return to the kingdom with them and think have been a wonderful support."

"I am pleased to hear it." Helen replied, her determination steady. "Though I know that I am dreadfully ignorant about many things, and I do not think I cannot understand their burdens until I know more about this world. I still have so many questions, but I do not want to be a distraction to my sons and daughters by asking them."

Lune looked sympathetic as she spoke, and Helen (who felt increasingly guilty for trying to pull information out of the kind King- though nothing she had said thus far had been a lie) tried not to balk under his gaze.

After a short paused, he gave her the chance she had been hoping for.

"I can understand such concerns. I have heard that your world is very different then this one, and I am sure that your adjustment will take quite some time." He remarked. "Do let me know if you have any questions which I can assist you with."

Her heart rate increased.

This was it…

"Well," The woman began, now feeling very hopeful. "I have been quite worried about this military campaign Peter has spoken of." She paused, deciding to take a risk and pretend that she knew more then she did. Her experiences that evening had told her that there was definitely something going on between Narnia and Calormen, and (she thought) it was safe to assume that this had something to do with all of the recent mention of war and battle. "I understand the Calormene's will be involved." She added reluctantly. "But I am not quite sure what the exact nature of the situation is…"

Helen trailed off and looked up at the king, hoping that he would not question her lack of knowledge or hesitate to share information with her. If he began to suspect that she was purposefully being left in the dark on these matters, he might decide not to answer and her efforts would be frustrated yet again.

For a long moment, he said nothing, and she feared that her bluff had been called.

Maybe she had been wrong about the Calromene's after all.

"You know what happened two years ago, with Prince Rabadash, I assume." Lune began quietly.

Helen breathed a sigh of relief, and nodded. That was one of the few things she did know; as Susan had told her several days ago, Rabadash had been the Calromen Prince who she had come near to marrying and who, after showing his true colours in his own country and being rejected by the Queen, had attacked Archenland (in hopes of eventually conquering Narnia). He had, thankfully, been defeated and banished back to his homeland by Aslan himself.

"Yes." She confirmed, glancing towards the King. "Susan told me what happened. How, when she refused to marry him, he attacked your country, but was defeated and condemned to stay in his own city."

"Indeed." The King replied. "As a punishment for his follies, Aslan turned him into an ass and said he would only return to human form if he went to the temple in his country's capital, Tashbaan, and stood on the altar during the autumn feast. He did this, of course, and was made to look like a fool when the thousands who had gathered around the temple saw his transformation." Lune continued. "If Rabadash ever ventures beyond the ten mile radius around the temple, he will once again become an ass. Permanently, this time."

Helen felt a smile tugging at the side of her lips as she recalled the story. In her mind, it had had a happy ending, and she was not quite sure why Lune felt that it was important to reiterate it. She wanted to know what was behind the possible military conflict that had been mentioned that evening, and she did not see how Rabadash (who could never again leave his city without terrible consequences) could be a central factor.

Though, she reminded herself, we was from Calormen, and it was the Calormene's who had seemed particularly hostile…

She was about to ask how this story related to the current situation, but Lune continued before she could.

"Rabadash, of course, is unable to ever lead a military campaign again." The King noted, as if reading her mind. "And for awhile, we had all hoped that this incident would bring an end to our troubles with Calromen. Rabadash was clearly shamed by the events which transpired, and his father the Tisroc was enraged by his son."

Helen nodded. "Of course."

"But," Lune began again, a faint frown forming on his face. "As you may have heard, the news of late is that three of Rabadash's brothers (for the Tisroc has many wives and thus many sons) have been showing signs that they seek vengeance- they wish to defend their brother's honour. Rabadash may be confined, but his brothers are still free to lead their armies wherever they may please- including, of course, Archenland and Narnia."

The woman hoped that she did not look too surprised by this revelation as the pieces began to fall into place. She was relieved to finally receive some solid information about the current situation, but she did not like the sound of what Lune had said. The thought of three enraged princes leading troops against the two countries which had defeated their brother was not pleasant, and she wondered what sort of force they would be able to muster.

"But, what of the Tisroc? What has he said about the matter?" she asked, wondering how the Calormen king had been taking these developments. If he was (rightfully so) angered by Rabadash's foolishness, then would he support his other sons' quest for vengeance?

She certainly hoped not.

Lune sighed, and Helen thought that he looked suddenly older and more burdened then he had a moment ago. After taking a deep swig of his wine, he replied. "The Tisroc rarely makes his stance clear." Lune explained. "Technically, he remained neutral when Rabadash attacked us, but (as Aravis happened to overhear a conversation between the prince and his father), we know that he would have come out to support the attack if Rabadash had been a success. The Tisroc has always had his eye on Archenland, Narnia, and the smaller kingdoms- he wishes to bring them into his empire, but will not proclaim his will in such a way unless he knows he can achieve it. Official reports say he is against his sons' plotting, but I suspect this will not be so if they make significant gains. He will gladly send in reinforcements if he senses that our defeat is at hand."

Helen felt a now-familiar knot forming in her stomach as she listened to the king explain the scenario. It seemed to make sense, and certainly explained the amount of worry and stress that had been growing at Cair Paravel over the past few days…

The threat suddenly felt much more real then it had earlier that evening.

"Though, as you said earlier, a battle can still be avoided, correct?" Helen asked, her tone hopeful.

She knew her children would never go to war if it could be averted, but she could not help but recall Peter's words from that afternoon…

"_Sometimes, battle is the only way to defend the kingdom, freedoms, and people that you cherish."_

As much as she knew that they would want to avoid conflict, she also knew that they would go to great lengths to protect what they held dear. If Rabadash's brothers became a threat, they would all do what needed to be done.

No matter what the personal cost…

"Oh, yes." Lune agreed, trying to smile. "Peter has sent his best dignitaries to their court, and we can still hope that the Tisroc will force them to desist their shows of aggression. They may have their own armies, as Calormen nobles often do, but they still must answer to the Tisroc."

Helen nodded again, hoping that the diplomatic mission would be a success and making a silent vow not to slip into despair over the matter until she knew what was to come next.

There was no use worrying, she realized, when war was not certain.

Lune waved his hand with a flourish, his smile finally regaining a hold on his face. "But enough of that, I say." He proclaimed. "I do not think we should let the thought of what might be ruin such a lovely evening." He paused for a moment, listening to the band as they struck up yet another beautiful song. "Ah, yes!"

His eyes once again flashed with a youthful glee as he spoke and, seconds later, he had hopped up from his chair with more agility then she would have expected from the slightly plump middle aged man.

"This song is a favourite of your children's, as you may know." He said, offering her his hand to help her up.

She did not know, but as she listened to the elegant tune, she could understand why.

Helen stood up and Lune continued to explain. "It has become tradition at the Narnian balls for the four royals to begin this dance on their own. Most guests gather around to watch as they dance the first half, and then we are all to join in." He paused, still smiling. "Would you do me the honour of joining me, Lady Helen?"

Her worries fading momentarily, she agreed, and the two made their way to the edge of the dance floor where the Kings and Queens were gathering to begin their traditional dance.

Or rather, Kings and _Queen. _

Helen's brow furrowed as she watched Peter, Susan and Edmund stand in the middle of the room, clearly lacking the presence of their forth member.

Susan and Peter were facing each other, ready to begin the dance, but Edmund stood alone, his brown eyes surveying the crowd for the youngest sibling who was meant to be his partner.

The music carried on, and so did the growing mummer of the crowd. Helen did not know how this dance went, but she was fairly certain that Lucy was supposed to be there at this point, ready to begin.

They stood.

They waited.

After a few more moments, the band stopped playing and lowered their instruments to their sides, knowing that it they continued, there would not be enough music left to carry out the full dance once Lucy arrived.

_No_, she realized, _this was not how it was supposed to go_.

Feeling terribly unsettled, and trying to ignore the whispers of the crowd, Helen pushed her way onto the dance floor and walked quickly towards her three children, all of whom looked concerned.

_Something isn't right. _

"Where is your sister?" The mother asked, her heart beating rapidly as she approached the three. "Shouldn't she be here?"

Peter and Edmund exchanged a worried glance, and Susan continued to survey the crowd, her eyes wide.

"She should be…" Edmund began, taking another quick look around the room. "She always comes when she hears our song. Always…" He trailed off, and Helen suddenly found it difficult to draw proper breaths.

Turning, and beginning her own frantic survey of the hall, the woman searched desperately for any trace of her daughter, hoping to see a flash of auburn hair, or that recognisable wide smile…

But, like the others, she had no success and her heart instantly sank.

Lucy was nowhere to be found…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N Buahaha, my first semi-cliffhanger. Hope you enjoyed it!

Sorry for the delay- have been busy, then got sick (hurrah for winter cold season!)

This was also a tricky chapter to write, had to skim through the Horse and His Boy again and take a few notes to get the details down- and I am sure that I made some sort of folly at some point (those of you who have read the books more times then I have can surely point them out). I know King Lune's speech in the books is a bit more flowery, but I find that hard to write and hard to read, so I did take an artistic liberty there. Forgive me!

For those that have not read the books- the Rabadash incident, as well as more about Lune, Cor, Corin and Avris can be found in the Horse and His Boy. I tried to summarize what needs to be known for the sake of this story in this (and previous chapters)- but let me know if something doesn't make sense!

Thanks again for the lovely reviews!

They keep me writing. So **PLEASE REVIEW** if you would like to see more.


	8. A Mother's Yearning

It had been hours since the final dance, and there was still no sign of Lucy.

The remaining royals had summoned the palace guards soon after their youngest sibling had failed to appear, and every available Narnian solider had been roaming the castle and its grounds ever since, looking for any trace of their missing sovereign.

So far, none had been found.

The ball, of course, had quickly deteriorated and (at Peter's insistence) Helen, Susan and the young Archenland royals had been ushered into a secure chamber in the north wing of the Cair. Initially, the distraught mother had attempted to protest, insisting that she too wanted to assist with the search for her daughter- but Peter had prevailed, pointing out that (since the threat was still a mystery and more royal abductions were possible) it would be much safer if they stayed somewhere safe.

Helen had, eventually, resigned herself and now sat in the quiet chamber, her tired eyes starring blankly at the opposite wall.

_Lucy…_

For a moment, Helen could almost see her long auburn hair…her wide smile and playful blue eyes...

She would have given anything, at that very moment, to hold Lucy safely in her arms…to feel the warmth and love that her daughter so easily radiated…

_She'll come back to us. _

_She has to…_

Helen resolutely refused to believe otherwise, and refused to let herself think the worst.

_She'll be okay._

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Susan sitting tensely in her chair, her hands grasping the armrests so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. The young Queen was not taking her sister's disappearance well, though her reddened eyes no longer seemed capable of shedding tears. Earlier that night, the mother and daughter had cried together, held each other for support and comfort, until both had been too worn to carry on like that any longer. They had, perhaps an hour or more ago, retired to their separate chairs, waiting in anxious silence for any update. Their raw emotions had been overcome with a terrible numbness, and they could now do little more then sit and wait…unmoving, and scarcely making a sound.

Every so often, a solemn messenger would arrive with word from Edmund or Peter, momentarily breaking the tense silence with his bleak news.

"_She has not yet been found."_ The messenger would say sombrely, carefully avoiding Helen and Susan's gazes, before slipping back into the hallway and rushing away. Helen could hardly blame him for his haste; the room was thick with emotion, and it was clear that he felt uncomfortable disturbing the family during such an uneasy time.

Despite her best logic, every time she saw the messenger Helen's heart leapt and she would find herself filled with an overwhelming sense of hope for one glorious moment. But when (as he always did) he delivered the same disappointing report, the world would come crashing back down and the reality of the situation would seem even more painful and heartbreaking then it had before.

It was foolish, she knew, to allow her emotions to get the better of her each time, but she also knew that it could not be helped.

She had to hope…

No matter how much it hurt when those hopes were dashed.

It was her hope that kept her going.

Drawing a shaky breath, the mother turned towards the other three figures in the small room, hoping to distract herself from her darkening thoughts.

King Lune had joined Peter, Edmund and the guards in the search, leaving his young sons and their friend under Susan and Helen's care (as the only other royals in attendance that evening, there was reason to be concerned for their safety as well). She had managed to keep her emotions in check for a few minutes when they had first arrived in the chamber, and (her motherly instincts taking over) had insisted that the teens get some rest on the only bed in the room. Thankfully, the tired bunch (despite their own worries about their missing friend) had not taken long to drift off, and the peaceful expressions on their young faces gave Helen a small degree of comfort.

Cor, Helen noticed with a small smile, had wrapped a protective arm around Aravis, and Corin was leaning peacefully against his twin's shoulder. The steady rise and fall of their chests was calming, and Helen wished that she too was enjoying such a serene sleep- though she knew that would not be possible until Lucy was safe and sound.

"They look so peaceful, don't they?"

The sound of Susan's tired voice snapped Helen out of her daze, and she turned to see that her daughter had also been observing the three.

She was somewhat surprised to hear her speak after such a long silence, but she welcomed the distraction.

"They do." Helen agreed with a nod, her dry throat aching slightly as she spoke. "I do not have much experience with teenagers- and I suppose I never will…but they seem like remarkably good kids." She trailed off, a sad smile flickering across her face as she wondered, for a brief moment, what her own children had been like at that age.

It still pained her to think that that she would never really know.

She had missed so much.

The Queen nodded back, her eyes still locked on the three sleeping forms. After a moment of silence, during which Helen worried that the young woman was retreating into her misery again, she replied.

"Well, Corin can be a bit high spirited at times." Susan mused, her eyes suddenly becoming more distant, as if recalling a memory. "But he always means well. And Cor and Aravis are always good company." She paused again. "The boys are very fond of Peter and Ed. I think they idolize them quite a bit. And Aravis gets along quite well with…."

The gentle Queen stopped abruptly, drawing a sharp breath and leaving her sentence hanging in the air. Helen, of course, knew who she was about to refer to, and could understand her hesitation- she too felt a rush of emotion hit her as her youngest child's name flickered through her mind.

_She will come back to us. _

She tried to reassure herself again, but noted (with much dismay) that it was becoming harder and harder to calm herself as the minutes dragged by.

_Aslan will keep her safe. _

_She will be okay. _

"Cor was kidnapped once, you know."

Susan began to speak again, and Helen's eyes widened at her daughter's words. She had not known, of course, and was a bit surprised by the Queen's sudden proclamation. Turning towards Susan, she noticed that her dark eyes were still locked on the sleeping forms.

Before she could respond, Susan continued.

"When he was very young child, one of King Lune's advisors managed to smuggle him out of the castle." She began quietly. "The King, of course, was quick to pursue him, and a battle was fought to gain the young prince back…but it was already too late. Cor had been sent to Calormen, and grew up under the care of a fisherman."

Another long pause filled the room as the two women drifted into their own thoughts.

Helen never could have guessed, when meeting the happy family that evening, that they had been afflicted by such a tragedy. She hated the thought of the jovial King Lune suffering such a loss, and she could (after the events of the past night) begin to understand how terrible it must have been.

Though, at the very least, she could find solace in the fact that Lucy was a grown woman who was capable of looking after herself- to loose a helpless baby, who had no means to defend himself, was even worse then her own current predicament.

"But then, how is he here now?" Helen asked, unable to stand the silence any longer. She stole a quick glance at Cor, noting how content he now looked with his brother and friend.

"We found him." Susan answered, her gaze still distant and her voice strained. "Or rather, he found us."

Helen could no nothing but stare at her in confusion.

"We were in…Calromen…" The young Queen began hesitantly. "I…I had gone because of Rabadash…I was planning to give him my hand in marriage." Helen noticed a small shiver run through her body; it was apparent that this was still a painful thing for her daughter to discuss, and she was suddenly tempted to envelope her in a comforting hug.

"Corin had gone with us on the journey but, much to our dismay, he wandered off one afternoon- and when Edmund saw Cor on the street he mistook him for his twin and brought him back to our chambers. The boys discovered each other when the real Corin returned, and switched back without us knowing…and, well, to make a long tale short, Cor, upon finding out what Rabadash had planned in retaliation for my rejection, managed to ride to Archenland and warn King Lune of Rabadah's advance. The King soon realized that the boy was, indeed, his lost son and was trilled to be reunited at long last."

The older woman gave a small smile as her daughter spoke; glad that the tale had a happy end, and hoping (for the umpteenth time that night) that she would soon experience the same joy Lune had undoubtedly felt.

"I suppose that some good did come of out trip to Calormen after all." Susan continued, her voice even quieter then before. "Though I cannot help but wonder if today has something to do with…"

The younger woman hesitated again, but Helen was fairly certain she knew what she meant.

She had similar concerns and she decided to voice them.

"You mean, you wondering if today's events have something to do with the Calormenes?" Helen asked cautiously, hoping that this would not upset her daughter further but no longer able to keep her worries to herself.

Her instincts had told that something was off ever since the Calormen envoy had arrived at the banquet, and Lune's tale about Rabadash's brothers seeking revenge had only served to solidify her suspicions. When Lucy had failed to appear for the dance, the first thing that had flashed across her mind had been the hungry look in the head ambassador's eyes and, even in her panicked state, she had managed to turn to Peter and voice her worries. He had nodded sombrely at the suggestion, struggling to keep his face as stoic as possible, and told her that he could not make such accusations publicly until they knew more.

Helen knew that this was a logical approach, but the more irrational part of her brain had wanted to disregard diplomatic protocol and voice her opinion to all who had gathered in the hall. She cared more about finding her daughter then she did about keeping up good relations between the countries, but she had been ushered out of the hall before she had been able to give into temptation.

Susan nodded silently before shutting her eyes for a few moments and drawing another shuddering breath.

"Yes." She answered sounder much younger and more helpless then Helen could remember since their arrival in Narnia. "And I wonder if it is my fault. If the Calormene's have taken…Lucy…" she managed to say her name this time, but could not mask the pain which flashed across her face as she did. "Because of what happened between me and Rabadash…"

Unable to resist her motherly instincts, Helen rose from her spot a took a few steps towards her daughter. She could see the worry in her face, hear the ache in her voice, and could not help but offer what little comfort she could.

"Come now, Susan." She whispered, drawing the young woman into a warm embrace. "Even if it was the Calormenes, it is not your fault. You never could have known that this would happen, and no one blames you for it."

Susan did not respond for several moments, and Helen could feel her warm tears seeping through the shoulder of her dress. She stroked her daughter's dark hair soothingly, feeling, for a moment, as if she was back in Finchley comforting Susan after she had fallen and scraped her knee.

She wished that her pain had such a simple cause…and such a simple solution…

But she knew that, unlike her childhood woes, this was something that a band-aide and a mother's kiss could not heal.

If only they _were_ home, she thought sadly, none of this would have happened.

Narnia may have been full of magic and wonder, but things had been so much easier before. She would trade all of the castles and delights of this strange new world to have her daughter safely returned.

"Mum." The word was muffled, but Helen could hear it clear enough. "I am sorry we did not tell you sooner, but there is more you should know. Rabadash's brothers have been threatening to attack and…"

"I know." The mother cut in, sparing her daughter from another painful explanation. "But it's still not your fault."

She felt Susan nod against her shoulder and silence feel over the room once more. This time, however, some of the tension had dissipated, and the two found comfort in their tight embrace.

They held on.

They shared a few more tears, and a few muttered words of reassurance and worry. Looking back, Helen could not say how long they stayed that way, or even if they had remained fully awake the entire time, but she could recall Peter and Edmund arriving as the sun began to rise in the eastern sky, looking more exhausted and worn then she had ever seen them before.

Again, as the door slowly opened she had felt the surge of hope…but the sight of her sons, and the distraught looks on their faces, had quickly brought her back to the harsh reality.

"Still no sign of her." Peter said, his usually strong voice tired and strained. "We've searched all night. Every guard has been put on duty- we've scoured the land, air and sea…but she is nowhere to be found."

Helen felt the knot in her stomach tighten, though she could not say that she was surprised by the news. Something inside of her had told her that things would not be this easy, and she had a terrible suspicion that it would take more then searching to find her daughter again.

The young men sat down heavily on the two remaining chairs in the room, both rubbing their tired red eyes and drawing deep steadying breaths. Helen was certain that the night had been no easier for them then it had been for her and Susan; all four of them, she knew, would not be able to rest until their fifth member was returned.

Lucy was always so steady.

So warm and full of life.

She had made their family complete, and become a presence that (consciously or not) they had all come to depend on. Helen could not imagine life without her youngest child, and she could hardly remember the time before her bubbling baby girl had been brought home, smiling wider and more often then any newborn she had ever seen.

Helen felt her eyes burning with tears once again as her tired mind drifted back to the day her youngest had been born. Lucy, unlike the others, had come two weeks early- eager, as always, to experience all that life had to offer. Helen had been in the backyard on a sunny afternoon, relaxing as she watched her three children playing happily on the grass, when she had felt the familiar tugging in her abdomen. She had known instantly that it was time, and called immediately for Frank, who excitedly rushed his wife to hospital. Helen could still remember the many smiles they had exchanged that afternoon, between her bouts of pain; both knew that this was the moment they had been waiting for, the day that would finally make things complete, and both were thrilled when their beautiful baby girl had been bundled up and placed in Helen's waiting arms.

Though the doctor had assured them that it was impossible at only a few hours old, she and Frank had both been certain that they had seen a tiny smile flicker across her peaceful face, and they had beamed back down at her, full of such indescribable pleasure and joy.

For a moment, at least, things had seemed perfect, and she yearned to have such a sense fill her again.

Though, she could not help but wonder as she sat in the quiet chamber a world away from her hospital room in Finchley, if her best days were now behind her.

She had no idea if she would see her husband again.

No idea if she would see Lucy again.

The only certainty at that moment was that she would not feel true happiness unless they were all reunited once more…

It was almost unbearable.

"I want to go home."

Her sudden statement broke the silence in the room, and directed her children's attention towards her. She had not meant to say that out loud, she realized as she shifted uncomfortably under their gazes, though she could not deny the truth in her words.

For a moment, they simply stared- scrutinizing her, and unsure how to respond.

Finally, Edmund spoke, and it was apparent that (in his fatigue) he had not quite understood the meaning of her statement. "We are home." He replied, a hint of confusion in his tired brown eyes as he absently rubbed his rough chin.

Peter nodded, clearly agreeing, but Susan remained silent and unmoving.

Perhaps she understood better then the others, Helen mused.

Perhaps she even felt that same way…

"No." The mother stated quietly, looking at each of her sons. "I mean our real home. In England. In Finchley."

The two young men exchanged a look which Helen could not quite read, and she frowned slightly, feeling as if she was missing something.

"This would never have happened if we had not left." She continued, her words suddenly filled with more force and conviction then they had been all night. "If we were back in England, Lucy would be safe- we would be together." She paused, trying to ignore the lump building in her throat. "And your father would be able to return to us. We'd be a family again…"

She trailed off, fearing that she would loose control of her emotions if she went further.

As it was, Helen could feel a combination of grief, fear, and anger welling inside of her, and it took much of her willpower to keep her impulses maintained.

Part of her wanted to scream in frustration, and demand that they find Lucy and return to the safety of England as soon as possible…she wanted her sons to agree that England was were they belonged, and it filled her with such sadness to know that they would never share her sentiments on this matter.

Narnia had claimed her children…taken their childhoods from her…broken her family apart…

Despite all that she had learned, and all the beauties she had experienced in this strange land, at the current moment she wanted nothing more then to turn back and forget it all.

She wanted things to be simple again.

She wanted her children to be children once more, she wanted to hold Lucy safely in her arms, and she wanted to feel her husband's love and support.

"Mum, we want to find Lucy just as much as you do." Peter said gently. "And we wish dad could be here too."

She nodded curtly, having no doubt that he spoke the truth. She knew, of course, that Peter loved his family deeply.

"But," Her oldest child continued, his blue eyes locked on her brown ones. "This _is_ our home now and, although we know you have not had time to form the attachments we have, you have to understand that this is where we belong, and we hope that one day you will feel the same way. Lucy would not want…"

"We do not belong here, Peter." She cut him off in mid-sentence, her voice full of more anger then before.

She wasn't sure why- perhaps it was her fatigue, her fears about Lucy, or her weeks of pent up emotion- but she had had enough. She did not want to hear him speak about how this life had replaced their old one- how they now cared more for this place then they ever had for their first home…the one she still cherished so deeply.

She knew it was true- she knew they had felt out of place in England and had been thrilled to return to this kingdom- but at that moment, she did not want believe it.

She wanted to hold onto what they had once had.

And she wished that they did too.

"Mum, please listen…" It was Edmund who spoke this time, and Helen could not hold back a surge of anger at the sound of his patronizing tone.

"Do not speak to me as if I was a child." The mother snapped, standing up abruptly from her chair and taking a few steps towards her youngest son. "I am your mother, and I am the adult here."

Much to her frustration, he exchanged another knowing glance with Peter, looking as if he was a parent trying to deal with a troublesome child, before speaking again.

"Mum, we're all adults now." He pointed out calmly, with a nod towards his brother and sister. "And I did not want to upset you, but you need…"

Helen could not bear to hear any more.

"You should be eleven, Edmund!" She cut him off again, starring down at him, her eyes flashing with desperation, anger and fear.

It was one of the first times since their arrival, she realized, that she had been able to tower over him (for as an adult he was several inches taller then her)- though she knew it was only because he had remained sitting. The moment he rose from his spot he would be the one looking down at her, and she would be the one feeling small and unsure.

She would be the one feeling like a child.

"I'm not eleven anymore."

His response was calm and simple, but it filled her with a fresh wave of pain.

She knew, of course, that it was true- she had known it since they had come to Narnia and there could be no denying it as she looked upon the fully grown young man before her.

But it did not make things any easier.

It did not make her loss any less agonizing.

"I know you're not." Her tone was softer this time, and she noted that her moment of rage seemed to be fading.

The burning anger that had been surging within her began to ebb as she starred down at her son; she could not remain angry, she realized, when she could see such worry and pain in his tired eyes.

He wanted Lucy back, they all did, and letting her emotions get the better of her would achieve little.

"But you _should_ be." She finished quietly, her eyes full of regret as she reached out and placed a hand on her dark haired son's cheek. It was rough, she noted. His stubble brushed against her smooth skin and her heart sank once more as was forced to acknowledge the truth in his words.

He was not eleven anymore.

"I'm sorry." Edmund's apology surprised her, and a sad smile slowly formed on her lips.

"It's not your fault, darling." Helen whispered, suddenly more aware of the dry burning in her throat. "You couldn't stop yourself from growing up." She paused, taking a step back and glancing towards her two eldest children.

They had been sitting quietly, watching the exchange, and not knowing quite what to say. Peter was biting his lip, she noticed (it was an old nervous habit of his), and Susan was once again gripping her chair tightly and drawing sharp, but quiet, breaths.

"Things are just so much more complicated here- so strange-and now this…" She hesitated, closing her eyes for a moment as her youngest daughter's face flashed through her mind once more. "I can't help but wish that we could return to a time when things were simpler. I miss how things were in England, before the war, and before this…"

Peter nodded as she spoke and, a moment later, rose from his seat and took two long strides towards her.

"I understand." He said quietly, drawing her into a tight hug.

Soon after, she felt Edmund and Susan join the embrace, and she allowed herself to revel in the warmth and comfort for several blissful seconds.

_Perhaps there are joys to be found here after all_, she thought with another small smile, though the knowledge that some were missing from this moment made it bittersweet.

All too soon, they drew apart and the four Pevensie's returned to their seats; still exhausted, still worried, but more content then that had been a few minutes before.

After another moment of silence, Susan spoke, snapping all of their attentions back to their troublesome reality.

"Are there any leads?" She asked, looking at her brothers expectantly. "Did you find any evidence? Anything that may help us find her?"

The young men looked down at the stone floor, and Helen instantly knew that they had little comfort to offer.

"Not really." Edmund confessed. "The search is still going on, and we have our people scouring the land, air, and sea- but so far, there have been few leads."

"We've also asked as many people as we can if they saw Lucy that evening. Mr. Tumnus has informed us that she did take a walk out in the gardens about a half hour before our dance." He paused, running a hand through his dark blonde hair. "The poor faun is beside himself with guilt; apparently, she asked if he wanted to accompany her outside but he, having just participated in several dances, choose to remain sitting in the great hall instead. We've told him it is not his fault, of course, but he does care for Lucy deeply, and feels horrid no matter what we say."

Helen nodded, saddened to think that the friendly faun (who had shown himself to be a good and loyal friend) was in such a state. Many Narnians cared greatly for her youngest daughter, and she knew that she and her children were not the only ones filled with worry after the disappearance.

There was another pause before Susan began again.

"She would never leave like this on her own." The young Queen stated.

"No, she wouldn't." Peter agreed sombrely.

"I think we can be fairly certain that this was not a wilful departure." Edmund confirmed with a deep sigh. "Though it is more difficult to say who did this, and why."

Furrowing her brow slightly, Helen cut in. "Do you not think that we have ample reason to suspect the Calormenes?" She asked, feeling as if she was stating the obvious and wondering what her son's had not addressed this possibility already. "As King Lune has informed me, Rabadash's brothers have become increasingly hostile, and the envoy did not seem to have our goodwill in mind. Have those men been seen?"

"Surprisingly," Peter began, with a sigh that echoed his brothers. "They are still in the castle. They were, of course, the first suspects that came to mind, but we managed to find them quiet easily. They may not be a pleasant bunch, but they are not with Lucy. Nevertheless, we have given a few of our guards a secret order to keep an eye on them for the duration of their stay, to be safe."

Helen's stomach twisted uncomfortably as he spoke, and her uncertainty quickly increased.

Not the Calormenes?

They had seemed to be the likely culprits, and she had nearly convinced herself that the envoy had something to do with Lucy's disappearance. They had looked at her with such disgusting desire- she had been certain that they, of all the guests, would have been the ones responsible.

But if they had not disappeared along with Lucy, then it could not have possibly been them.

At least, she didn't think so…

"Who could it be then?" Helen asked, her eyes wide with worry. "Who else would have the motivation to do such a thing?"

The boys exchanged a glance, and Peter replied. "That's the problem." He began. "We can't be sure. There are other possibilities- others who wish us ill. The giants have never been our greatest allies, and I was forced to lead a campaign against them during our final year here. I thought that business was behind us, but perhaps they want their revenge. It could have something to do with Rabadash's brothers or, though we have done our best to subdue them, there are still a few lingering followers of the White Witch lurking in our lands who could be to blame." He paused for a moment, and Helen could see Edmund stiffen beside him, his knuckles tightly clenched. "There are those who wish to see us deposed, and some who may be angry about our unexpected return."

The mother sank further back into her chair, trying not to let her growing sense of hopelessness overcome her.

Peter was right. If it wasn't the envoy, the only ones who had seemed hostile towards them that night, then there were no good leads.

There was no simple answer.

And, if possible, Lucy now seemed even further away then she had before.

"We tried our best- and we will continue to do so until she is found." Edmund said firmly, trying (unsuccessfully) to mask the anxiety in his voice. "We will get her back."

Helen nodded; her fatigue and fear making her feel more hazy and overwhelmed by the minute. "I know."

More silence followed, and none of the awake inhabitants of the room said anything for what seemed like a very long time. They started ahead, hardly aware of their surroundings, and teetering on the edge of consciousness.

They were tired.

Worried.

Afraid.

And all four wanted nothing more then to see their youngest member; home, happy and safe.

As the sun began to filter into the small chamber's window, seeming much too bright for a sad day such as this, a familiar tap at the door snapped the distressed group out of their mutual daze.

Helen recongnized the four distinct taps instantly, and she knew (even before Peter opened the door) that it was the same messenger faun that had visted them with updates throughout the night.

Peter greeted him with all of the warth he could muster (which, atmiddetly, was not much, considering the situation) and the faun gave a low bow before scuttling into the room.

She could not help but notice that his demeanour had changed since she had last seen him, and his subdued manner was now replaced with anxiety and confusion.

"My good faun." Edmund said, turning to face the new arrival. "Do you have news for us?"

"Indeed." He replied, with another bow towards the younger King. "I have been sent to inform you that the Calormene envoy has arrived. They await your greeting in the entrance chamber."

As soon as the messenger finished, Peter and Edmund dashed into the hallway without a word, running with a surprising amount of energy for men who had not had a wink of sleep that night. Susan gave a small gasp and quickly began to follow after them, taking a second to glance back at her mother and gesturing for her to come, before exiting the room completely.

Confused, Helen numbly followed, her feet moving much quicker then she would have expected.

The Calormene Envoy had just arrived?

It was impossible…they had met the envoy last night…

Unless…

She rounded the corner into the entrance chamber to see her three children standing in front of four men who were surrounded by several Narnian guards.

As Helen arrived, one of the men took a step forward, presenting Peter with a sealed document and giving him a deep bow.

"High King." The man began, looking up to face the monarch. "The Tisroc (may he live forever) sends his greetings and wishes you to know that he will do what he can to maintain peace between our two countries."

Peter said nothing, and simply starred down at the document in his hand, his blue eyes wide.

Misinterpreting his surprise, the Calromene continued. "We apologize, High King, for our late arrival. It was our intent to attend the ball last evening, but we awoke two days ago to find our carriage destroyed and our horses freed, thus it took us longer then expected to finish our journey. We do hope you will bear us no ill will."

Again, Peter did not respond, and continued to look down at the parchment the man had passed him. "This is the Tisroc's official seal." He muttered, turning towards his siblings and ignoring the worried ambassadors.

"Of course, High King." Another member of the envoy cut in hesitantly. "We come directly on the Tisroc's (may he live forever) orders."

"But," It was Susan that spoke this time, and Helen could hear the apprehension in her voice. "We already received the Calormene envoy last night. They attended the ball, and have been given a room in our north wing."

The four men exchanged a series of confused glances.

"With all due respect, that is impossible, my lady." The shortest one stated with a bow. "We are the official delegation. There are no others."

After taking a glance at the parchment for himself Edmund, always the quickest and most logical of the siblings, turned towards the guards, his face set with a steely determination.

"Get to the north chamber at once." He commanded firmly. "Find the other Calormenes and bring them to the great hall for questioning immediately. Be sure to confiscate their weapons, and do not let them out of your sight."

The guards he had been addressing nodded, and quickly dashed from the room, leaving the stunned royal family, a confused group of foreign diplomats, a few perplexed guards in their wake.

Helen remained rooted in her spot, unable to move and scarcely able to breathe.

Several questions raced through her mind as she tried to comprehend what she had just witnessed.

If this was the delegation, then who were the other men?

Why had they claimed to be the Tisroc's representatives when, apparently, they were not?

And, most importantly, what did all of this have to do with Lucy's disappearance?

Helen, in her tired and distressed state, could not even begin to make sense of it all…and she could only hope that getting to the bottom of this strange turn of events would bring them one step closer to finding her daughter.

In her mind, that was all that really mattered.

She wanted Lucy home, and she would do anything to get her back.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N: Wow. That took a very long time (I wrote in three separate sittings- usually I do it all at once). It was difficult to write, I kept changing it, and I am still not fully satisfied…but there you have it. I decided that I needed to get through it, and get on with the story, so it is posted. Let me know what you think!_

_I found it very hard to write Helen in this chapter- I didn't want to make her completely break down (because I needed her to be able to describe what was going on, and didn't want to bore people with a long sobbing chapter)- but I also hope I didn't make her seem too selfish/not focused on Lucy. In my mind, Lucy is her main concern, though other anxieties/fears that she has developed are also being brought to the surface by this traumatic event. I wanted her to talk about going home, and hope that bit wasn't out of character. I feel like, at that point, she would have seen England as a better, safer, option. Her children may love Narnia, but she has not been there long and I feel that it is realistic to make her regret their journey there if it means never seeing Lucy again. But perhaps I have now messed things up and made her un-likable. _

_Sorry for the delay this time! Life had been busy, and inspiration has been lacking. _

_**Please REVIEW and keep me motivated.**_

_**Cheers!**_


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